A Bond which Binds Us
by TheUltimateGambit91
Summary: AU. There are some things that bind the body, some that bind the heart and some that bind the soul. But when you are drawn to a person by body, heart and soul, how can you ever think to ignore it? ROMY
1. Prologue

_**NOVEMBER '09 – If some may notice, I've done a little editing! Some small changes have been made to certain details so keep an eye out if you've already read this! -Thanks!**_

_**Hello faithful readers! I know it's been ages but honestly, I'm either too busy to write at all, or too iffy when it comes to updating my stories. I know, that's called laziness but don't worry I WILL finish (hopefully) the others at some point. Just not now haha. Life's too short! I've had this story buzzing around my head for a while now. It needed to be brought to life. **_

_**Okay, this story is slightly AU. There will be no X-men, just Rogue and few selected others. There ARE powers and some greater forces at work in this. **_

_**By the way, to any Twilight fans out there, I did NOT get this idea from it. (oh yeah, sure. NOW you'll believe me!) it simply came from a thought. Love-at-first-sight is mythical, so what if I made it physical and toss in a little bit of dark magic? **_

_**Should be interesting!**_

_**-Gams **_

_**Disclaimer: Don't own X-men, they are Marvel property.**_

_**A Bond Which Binds Us**_

_**By UltimateGammy91**_

_**Prologue**_

The city was a clash of lights, music and laughter. The multicoloured lights shone through the intricate fringes of the old building balconies while the creatures of the night chattered, laughed and swayed to the beat of the French Quarter's heart. It was a night like any other in the streets of New Orleans. While the regulars went about their business for the night, the few night-tourists stopped and gaped at the lights and the many precarious creatures that hung about the streets like it was their own backyard. It wasn't so much a figure of speech to say it was. The smell of Creole foods and second-hand smoke thickened the air and hung like an invisible mist. As the air become intoxicated with the night life, laughter and music rained not from the sky but the open doors of the clubs and late-night restaurants.

'Magic' was what new-comers described such a place. For Remy LeBeau however, it was simply 'home.' The pavement echoed under the fall of his shoes as he passed the lively bars and jazz clubs. The French Quarter's heartbeat drummed through his ears and coursed through his body like a second pulse. He was attuned to the music wafting through the streets, the smell of spiced Gumbo and Jambalaya so strong that he could practically taste it on his tongue. It spoke a language to him that only a man who has spent his entire life on these streets could understand. And hell, he'd done more than just spend his life on these streets. His mind drifted to a time of his childhood where he had nothing but the streets for comfort. Up North, the streets could be cold and frightening to a young child. For him, at least on those good days, the streets of the French Quarter could be just as warm and comforting as a bed and night light. Yes, he understood these streets better than most men. A private smirk played across the young man's lips as his eyes travelled over old paths of his childhood. There truly was no place like home.

As Remy turned the corner, like clock-work his feet pulled him towards the familiar doorway on the corner's bend. _The Rosalie bar and restaurant_ was an old favourite since he was a mere pup and it called his name with a welcoming smile. As he passed the open seating area a few people (_ehem_, women) called greetings and invitations to join them but he respectfully declined as he made his way to one of the tall windows by the doorway. With a tap of the glass, the man standing on the other side jerked his head up only to grin when he caught his friend's unusual gaze. The man's hair was streaked gray with age but nothing could age the devil-may-care smirk across his face as he stepped outside to greet the young man.

"Well if it isn't Remy LeBeau! _Dieu_, what y' doin' 'roud here t' night _mon ami_? Ain't you supposed t' be at some _soirée_?" (party)

Remy merely smirked as he leant casually against the doorframe. He raised a cancer stick from between his fingers to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke eased from his nostrils as he replied with a twinge of irritation to his causal tone.

"_Oui mais_ it clashed wit' some _very_ important engagements so I t'ink dey will have t' forgive _moi_ f' not attending."

His sarcasm was barely masked with a confident cockiness only the youngest Prince of Thieves could master. He took another drag from his cigarette as his friend gave an amused, hearty chuckle.

"Somet'ing more important dan y' own engagement party? I wonder what dat _fiancée_ o' yours has t' say bout dat _homme_." (man)

Remy shrugged. That tell-tale smirk remained locked in place as he replied in the same casualness.

"Whatever Bella 'as t' say, it can wait till mornin'. Right now t'ough. Remy needs a drink."

His friend shook his head in meek disapproval but nonetheless clapped him on the back as he led him into the depths of the bar. Who was he to judge the young man? The language of alcohol and good company was the only language Remy wanted to understand tonight.

The engagement party was a blurred memory tucked into the furthest reaches of his mind.

_Meanwhile...._

The glass case came away without so much as a sound as the figure's gloved hands pried it away from its single charge. A soft chuckle of admiration escaped the lithe figure's lips as she observed the delicate jewel before her. Encased in gold, the ruby pendant caught the spot-light above at certain angles as she picked it up and began to turn it between her thumb and her index. With another breath of a chuckle, the dark-encased woman returned the glass case to its former place and slipped the jewel around her neck. She couldn't help but hold it between her fingers and admire it one last time. A gentle sigh escaped her lips while a flicker of disappointment spread across her brow.

"_Mah, mah. Ya are a beautiful one. Too bad ya spoken for."_

Smirking at her little joke, the woman let the jewel fall back against her collarbone as she made her way carefully across the room of jewels. Spot-lights focused on the encased treasures of the museum acted as map markers. She followed them towards her exit; the window.

Her gloved hand had barely touched the glass when a voice broke across the room.

"_Tut-tut_ _ma belle_. Didn't y' _Mére_ ever tell y' it was wrong t' take what don't belong t' y'?"

The young woman paused a moment. She was so swept up in her own game of fun that she had hardly noticed the presence of another in the room. She damned her moment of ignorance as she felt the cool sting of a blade against the centre of her spine. She sighed irritably.

"Didn't ya Mama ever tell ya its impolite t' sneak up on a gal?"

The voice chuckled amusedly. The cold tip of the blade traced further up her spine in a fluid movement, causing a slight chill to run up her covered back. She tried not to shudder as his breath caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. He whispered roughly into her ear.

"Y' knew _ma Mére_, _Anna-Marie_. Y' remember her sayin' dat when we were _enfants, non?_" (children, no?)

Marie gritted her teeth as she felt his free hand trace one of her hips with an inappropriate tone of gesture. She took in his face for the first time in years. She managed to contain her anger as she growled back.

"All ah remember was a spoilt lil' brat who cried t' his Mama when he didn't get his way."

As her words compelled it, the man made to turn her around but she was quick to turn it to her advantage. With an expert litheness, she pushed the dagger away and forced her knee upwards, causing him to bend over in pain before she aimed a kick to his head. Marie wasted no time as he toppled to the floor. Forgetting stealth, she pushed the glass window open and with a gust of wind and a sinking sensation in her gut, soon found herself two stories below. Her feet had barely touched the pavement when she heard it; the hiss of unsheathed swords.

She broke out into a run.

_**Well? Are we interested?**_

_**REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams**_


	2. I'm Not Ready for a Handshake with Death

_**Cheers for the reviews! **_

_**-Gams **_

_**Chapter One – I'm Not Ready for a Handshake with Death**_

The music of the night became lulled with sleep as the midnight lights turned few and dim. The tourists had deserted the French Quarter along with many a regular but there were still a couple of regular night owls still out on the prowl. Swaggering slightly in his step, Remy stepped out of the bar only to be pulled back by the tail of his beloved trench coat. The buxom blonde- or was she really a brunette? – he had had the pleasure of _speaking_ to most of the night pulled him back to her for a last, alcohol-fuelled kiss. As she did so, he felt her slip something- a phone-number on a napkin-into his coat. She whispered a couple of sweet, X-rated nothings into his ear which caused him to chuckle huskily but pull away nonetheless. He stumbled slightly onto the streets as he casually fled the woman's arms. With the excuse he was not fit to drive- let alone drive _her_ back to his place, he had expertly left the bar in a fabricated drunken swagger. It was only after bidding his friends goodnight (for the millionth drunken time) and slipping around the corner that he reverted to his perfectly sober state and swagger. With a slight sigh, he ran a hand through his chin-length auburn hair and continued onwards down the now-quiet street. On any other night he would've taken a blonde or a brunette on their offer but he dared not tempt the fates further this night. He would already have hell to pay when he returned home. A disgruntled sigh escaped Remy as he tucked his hands into the depths of his pockets.

"_Three months. Three more months..."_

Before he could fall any deeper into his pending doom, the sound of hurried footsteps caught his ears. He stopped on the spot. His unusual gaze narrowed as it swept over the empty street way ahead. As he continued to listen, he waited for the running figures to appear. From where he stood, he knew they couldn't be far but it was his empathy abilities that made him certain. His empathy picked up on a mixture of emotions. On a grander scale, probably more than one person, there was anger and adrenaline. On a smaller scale, of which he figured could only be one person, he felt an abundance of fear masked behind a drive of determination.

Instinctively, Remy reached into one of the many pockets of his coat and fastened his fingers over the cool length of metal concealed within. His gaze narrowed to a distant building wall. Shadows danced across the bricks, followed swiftly by the distinct sound of male voices that called out without caution to open ears.

"Bring her back! Don't let 'er get away! De _famille_ want her alive-"

Call it honour, call it a defect of his Tante's teachings, but as soon as the men's words touched his ears, Remy was following at a vast pace. Running, he withdrew the piece of metal from his coat pocket only for it to extend its length with an unsheathed hiss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Marie let out a growl of aggravation as she came to a halt in front of a dead-ended alley way. After finally shaking the Assassins off some streets back, she had pushed herself to keep moving. She wasn't accustomed to the French Quarter's bends and turns but her primal instincts had pushed her as far away from them as she could run. Her breath came out in frantic pants and her heart thundered against her rib cage. Swallowing, her emerald gaze flickered across the dark space of the alley in search of an escape. She could hear the men's voices from the distance.

"_Come on! Think Marie, think!"_

She just about jumped out of her own skin as the sound of movement from nearby erupted with a crash, breaking her from her panicked thoughts. Turning to a defensive stance, she twisted around only for her gaze to land on a fire escape and a few trash cans against the wall. She kept her defences locked as she waited for whatever moved to come out. After a few dead-silent moments, the blurred form of a black alley cat skidded across her feet and ran out of the alley way in a panic. Marie let out a sigh of relief but it was laced with irritation. She had always hated cats. However her musings were quickly silenced. The sound of male voices was suddenly a lot louder than it had been five minutes ago. On a whim, Marie reached for the fire escape ladder and carefully climbed to the top. She slipped over the railing to stand on the small balcony in a low crouch. Keeping to the shadows, she tried to stay as silent and still as possible and watched as six figures stepped into the mouth of the alley.

"She couldn't have gone far- check de alley, she could be hidin' in dere. De rest o' y', continue down dere. We haven't had dis chance in years, it would be a dishonour not t' bring her back dis time."

Marie tried to keep her breathing steady as she watched three of the figures step into the dim light that stretched from the alley entrance. Clad in black coats, the three Assassins brandished typical medieval blades. Each blade was built with a wide hilt and encrusted with gold and silver filigree. The three spread out amongst the narrow space, their eyes set to the open spaces between them. Marie took a silent, deep breath before reaching for the low of her back. Her gloved hand grasped the gun strapped around her waist with a silence only copious practice could master. She made sure the silencer was attached before she pulled the trigger. With a cry of pain, one of the Assassins tumbled to the ground. His cries and the clatter of his heavy blade cut through the silence as the remaining two assassins whirled around to face their unseen enemy.

Marie was about to pull the trigger a second time when a numbing pain overwhelmed her body, causing her gun to fall from her grasp as she began to shake violently. Her mouth opened in an outcry of pain before the electrical charge became dulled to an almost blinding aching sensation. Her body became limp; her knees gave way before she could even think of turning to face her assailant. She needn't have to in the end. As her body lay helplessly against the metal grating of the balcony, Julien Boudreaux overstepped her from his place in the open window and with an oddly tender hand, pushed her onto her back. Contrary to the situation, his voice held a casualness that was most unsuitable. Or was it simply unsettling?

"Don't worry _ma belle_. De effects will ware off by mornin.' Dis-"

He indicated to the weapon in his grasp. Though like a handgun, the power neutralizer was longer, sleek even. Julien caressed its length with a tenderness better suited to a pet cat as he smirked down on her. What Marie wouldn't give to smack that look right off his face.

"-was necessary. _Je suis désole ma amour mais __vous ne me laissait pas le choix. Vous me pardonnerez avec le temps."_ (I am sorry my love but you left me no choice. You will forgive me with time)

Marie wanted to retort, to lash out the anger that burned through her very skin but the effects of the neutralizer left her mouth useless for such an effort. She could barely manage to glare at him properly as he tucked his weapon beneath his coat and continued to smirk down on her like the cat that got the cream. Julien had always had a sadistic sense of triumph and his victory dance was far from over. He made sure to kick her gun off the balcony as he squatted before her. Tilting his head to one side, he let his gaze sweep over her limp form. His gloveless fingers reached out for her only to gently stroke her cheek. Marie was proud to say she had the strength to shrink away from his touch. A low chuckle escaped him as he replied in a playful tone.

"Shy are we? Y' were never a shy girl _ma belle_. _Mais_ it has been what? _Five years_ since we last crossed paths?"

As he spoke his fingers reached out for her once more, this time to trace her full lower lip. Marie tried to move away but her body just didn't seem to realise whose control it was under. His rough finger tips traced her mouth with a gentleness that sent unpleasant shivers down her numbed skin. It was disturbing to think that he could cause such a reaction in her when her body was so numb of anything else. She assumed it was years of loathing him that brought her to such a reaction. His cold blue eyes continued to trace over her form indecently as he replied in a low voice.

"Shyness is quite becomin' on y' _chérie_. _Mais _where be dat Southern spitfire I knew _hahn_? Where's de fire in dem eyes?"

His fingers trailed from her lips, coursing shivers of disgust within her as they trailed over her jaw line to trace over the skin-tight fabric that encased her throat. Marie had never wished for a gun in her grasp so badly and by god did he know it. She was well aware that he knew how much his ministrations disgusted her, angered her. However his fingers were not allowed any further than her throat. Like a snake slithering stealthily beneath a trapper's feet, a long rod of metal appeared from the dark only to point like the tip of a sword at Julien's throat.

"_C'est plutôt faible de se sentir à une femme quand elle n'est pas en état de repousser les advances."_ (That's rather low to feel up a woman when she is in no condition to reject advances)

Marie strained to turn her neck to see where the voice had come from. Her neck permitted her slightly, only for her to catch a glimpse of a pair of glowing red orbs suspended in darkness. She would have gasped had she the ability. Her eyes shifted to Julien only to find him standing again, facing the figure in the dark. His brow had furrowed slightly while his jaw tightened with silent anger. His response was cold if not obviously hateful.

"Stay out o' what don't concern y' LeBeau. Dis is_ mon_ business. _Mon Pére_ may embrace y' like a son, _mais_ y' no brother t'_ moi_." (my father)

As if to emphasise his point, he over stepped her to face the man who stood balanced on the balcony railing. Marie could only make out the pair of red eyes- as she realised they were. The metal staff whipped the air as the figure raised it like a sword before him. He reverted to a Cajun tongue of English as he replied.

"_What concerns de Assassins, concerns de T'ieves _Julien. Or have y' forgotten de treaty y' signed not a week ago?"

Julien gave a snide scoff laced with disgust. A grimace spread across his lips as if he wanted nothing more than to spit on Gambit's words..._and_ draw his blood. His scowl only deepened as he hissed back.

"Pen on paper never did anyt'ing f'_ moi_. Now back de fuck off!"

The man had the cockiness- or perhaps the stupidity –to chuckle at Julien's far from playful threat.

"S' funny. I have de same regard f' empty t'reats."

That was all it took for Julien to snap. With the whip of his coat, he withdrew his sword and made a direct lunge at Gambit's unseen figure. Though Marie flinched at his actions, anticipating a cry of unbearable pain, the blade sliced air and not flesh. Marie began to feel some movement in her limbs as she struggled to see what was going on around her. It was like a game of cat and mouse. While Julien continued to expertly slice through the darkness, Gambit continued to successfully dodge and aim his own bruises. It was a well matched fight.

Below, Marie could hear the two remaining Assassins rooting their comrade on. Marie growled inwardly at her own helplessness. If she could just see what was going on!

It was when the Assassins below began to cry out in alarm that Marie realised that Julien had been knocked over the railing and sent plummeting into the pile of trash cans below. Marie barely had the energy let alone the time to push herself up to see if he was alive when she felt a pair of hands wrap around her and pull her upwards in one near-effortless action. However before she could try to object, Gambit had carefully ("_Désole chére, mais_ dis be de only way-") wrapped her over his shoulder and began to climb the wall with the litheness of an acrobat. Marie had felt a slight tingle of fright in her stomach as her gaze fell on the ground growing farther and farther away. She had never been afraid of heights, it was simply the fact that she couldn't really move and she was completely reliant on this stranger's good grip on both her and the wall. Who wouldn't be anxious of falling to their death in such circumstances? She was assured slightly when the Cajun called back that he wouldn't let her go. Just a little.

The ride wasn't over when they reached the top of the building. With an arm securely wrapped around her waist and her feeble grip on his back, Gambit began to run across roof tops. The sudden rush of anxiety that came every time they leapt from one roof to another was swift the first couple of times but after several jumps it was all but second nature. Still, Marie held onto him with all her strength. Some blocks away, the cries of outrage from Assassins became distant as they made their way down another fire escape into a similar dark alley. It was here that Gambit suggested they stay on the ground and take a breather before they moved any further. He gently eased her to sit with her back against the wall before slumping casually against it himself. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and took a deep breath before smirking down on her.

"Well, dat was fun_ non_?"

In the light of a nearby street lamp Marie was finally able to see his face. Her eyes widened for a moment as they locked onto the most unusual set of eyes staring back at her. Encased in black where there should have been white, a pair of red jewels glowed brightly from a handsome Adonis-not face. It was only perfected by a charming, devilish smirk. It took her several moments to realise he had said something though.

"Are y' alright _chére_?"

Judging by the authentic look of concern, she was sure that he was enquiring to her neutralized state and not her staring. After a moment, Marie found her voice again but it was rasped with exhaustion and a sudden dryness. Her gaze fell to the floor as she placed a hand to her temple.

"Jus' a lil' dizzy. He zapped meh with some power neutralizer..."

He looked surprised by her words.

"Y' a mutant?"

Marie eyed him cautiously as she replied in equal measurement. The absence of her gun around her waist left her feeling slightly uneasy. A gun was a means of security if not a means of defence.

"Yes."

To her surprise, he brandished another devilish smirk that spoke nothing but confidence and cockiness. It was obvious his Adonis-not looks came with a package deal of charm.

"Y' 'ave no'ting t' be anxious about _belle_ (beautiful). Gambit be a mutant too. Y' in good hands he promises."

Marie raised a sceptical brow at him. Was he for real? Any man who carried himself with such airs was bound to have an ego to boot.

"What be y' name_ chére_?"

Marie was about to answer that it wasn't any of his business but the sudden outcry of familiar voices made her silent. Without another word, Gambit reached for her and made to pull her into his arms only for Marie to pull away and insist that she could walk on her own. Gambit gave another devilish smirk before swiftly picking her up in his arms in a bridal fashion. They- he was running at a quick pace by the time he got around to defending himself against her aggravated glare.

"We need t' be runnin' now_ chére_. Don't t'ink y' gonna be much help walkin'."

Marie would've put up a fight about being carried like some helpless damsel but the fact was her legs were barely able to stand her up let alone carry her in a chase. So she kept her hold around Gambit's neck and thanked God that he was a fast runner. However it soon turned out that no amount of running would save them that night. As they rounded a deserted street corner, three forgotten figures stepped into view. With their swords raised, they ran towards them in attack. Marie could only watch in horror as they approached, knowing this was a no-win end to their winning streak. However what she didn't count for was for Remy to set her quickly on her feet and tuck her behind him as he yelled for her to close her eyes and stay where she was. Flashes of magenta danced across her closed eyes followed by a soundtrack of pained cries and bodies falling heavily to the ground. When Marie did open her eyes, she found three unconscious Assassins lying at their feet. Their clothes, she noticed with a frown, were burnt in places while a residual smoke rose to the air. She turned to Gambit with a questioning look, only to find her answer literally glowing before her. Several playing cards were laced between his fingers, each emitting a magenta glow that was almost hypnotic. Marie needn't ask what had caused such burns on their assailants anymore but she continued to stare with open astonishment well after the cards had lost their charged glow. She was broken from her amazement abruptly however when she noticed a new glow of red barely the size of a small dot...a small dot aimed directly over Gambit's heart.

"_GET DOWN!"_

Without a thought, Marie lunged forward to push him out of the way of the gunman's aim. She fell with him as he stumbled back against the brick wall but in her actions, it only delayed the bullet by a body's worth. There was a sickening sound that ripped through the air as the bullet passed through her body but she didn't feel the pain.

Not for a good elongated moment.

It was as if the world had suddenly slowed down. Each breath that rose and fell in her lungs suddenly burned. Her breath hitched and suddenly the numbness she had felt from the neutraliser was nothing compared to the cold that suddenly engulfed her senses.

Only then did she realise she was bleeding.

That they were both bleeding.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Remy had always had a weakness for women. Beautiful, Sexy, Whispering-X-rated-nothings-into-his-ear women. Damsels in distress were merely a once-in-a-while perk. But when Julien Boudreaux came onto the scene it was a motive for interest as well as involvement. When he had heard the first outcry of pain, he had picked up the pace only to find the remaining three Assassins had cornered the woman into the alley with no escape route except for one; through them. Getting into the building had been easy, waiting for the opportune moment was difficult. In the time it took him to reach the right floor in the building, Julien had managed to pull the power neutralizer out and fire at will. However it was Julien's treatment of the woman afterwards that made his blood boil. From his empathy, he felt an abundance of disgust and anger from the woman and it didn't take a genius to work out who it was intended for. Her emotions acted as motivation for his actions against Julien. Peace treaty or not, his honour would not allow Julien to brutalize this woman. This..._intriguing_, beautiful woman. When they had gotten away and taken a rest in that alley, he had taken the time to look her up and down. Her curvy form was clad completely in a form-fitting black outfit that left only her face uncovered. Her complexion was pale and was only intensified by the pair of platinum white streaks that framed her heart-shaped face. Her two-toned auburn hair was attractive if not intriguing. However it wasn't any of these features that left him staring the most. Flecks of green ice stared back at him from between a curtain of white. Her eyes were such an intense emerald that one was in danger of drowning in them. And boy did he want to. However, the thrill and danger of the chase was quick to catch up with them. He cursed having gone to the bar earlier. Though he hadn't drunken himself into a stupor, he had had a few beers and it simply wasn't ethical to drink before running for your life. Or another's for that matter.

When the three Assassins cornered them at the corner of the street, he had honestly been surprised he hadn't heard or sensed them coming but hadn't the time to ponder over it as they began their attack. He had tried to be as careful with the woman as possible while he set her on her feet behind him.

"Close y' eyes _et_ stay where y' are!"

He should have known it was all too easy, that the Assassins attack was all too cliché and predictable to be the only piece of the puzzle. When the three men were down however, all he could do was drown in those pools of green as they observed the scene before her...as they shifted from the charged cards in his hands to meet his gaze. He hadn't anticipated what happened next. Not the laser aimed at his heart or her actions.

It all happened so fast.

One moment they were standing, soul gazing through the red and green windows of their eyes. The next they were bleeding against the pavement with a bullet through their chests.

_Hit two birds with one stone._

Those words held too much truth for his liking.

Then all of a sudden the world slowed down. What had happened in a mere thirty seconds became an hour- an age. As he slumped against the brick wall behind him, he felt a cold numbness overtake his body though the wound over his heart still burned. None of it seemed to register after his gaze fell onto the angel dying in his arms. One of her arms hung limply over his shoulder from when she had tried to push him out of the way. She laid against him as her frantic heart continued to thunder between their bleeding chests while her head lay almost loosely against his shoulder. Her gentle, frantic rasps of air made him aware of just how much he was struggling to breathe as well.

But since when had the raggin' Prince of Thieves ever let anything keep him from helping a beautiful woman?

Though it pained him deeply, somehow he managed to turn her onto her back so he could look into those emerald pools before the end came too close. A pained gasp escaped her lips and he found himself apologizing for it though both knew it couldn't be helped. Guilt was quick to come as he stared into her angelic, deathly-pale face. She was young. Not that younger than him but still, too young to die such a gruesome death. Too beautiful for that matter. Those emerald eyes were already flickering while her breaths became deeper. Her body continued to shut down. Remy found himself raising a shaky hand to stroke one of her porcelain cheeks. Her body was still warm and it lightened his heart in ways he couldn't explain or understand. Not that it mattered anymore. He managed a shadow of his classic charming smile and spoke softly.

"It be arlight _ma chére_...it...it won't hurt much longer..."

He wanted her last moments- their last moments to be the sweetest last moments on this Earth. Remy continued to stroke her cheek as a single tear streamed down her cheek. As he wiped it away, he wished he could ask her why she was crying but his voice would not permit him...

Darkness was quick to take him...

****

**Don't hurt me! I swear this is all part of the plan! **

**REVIEW!**

**-Gams**


	3. Away from the Light

_**Chapter Two - Away from the Light **_

_**Chapter Two - Away from the Light **_

"_Oh mon dieu...dis- dis can't be happenin'..."_

"_Where is mon fils?! WHERE IS HE?"_

"_Who could have done this Tante?"_

"_This can only be de work o' de Assassins..."_

"_Who is the girl Tante? What was she doing wit' Remy?"_

"_I don't know chil' mais whoever she is, she tried to save him. An' Dieu I can't decide whether t' t'ank her or pray t' Dieu an' ask why he'd lead such a young lamb t' slaughter."_

"_It be two young lambs, Tante. Deux." (Two)_

"_They're gonna be alright ain't dey Tante?"_

"_I don't know Mercy, Je ne sais pas." (I just don't know)_

"_Come on Remy, y' have t' pull t'rough dis. Y' have t'..."_

"_Are they any better Tante?"_

"_Oui, much better ma chil'. Mais..."_

"_What is it Tante? Please, tell moi."_

"_Dis may be jus' be an' ol' woman's hopes mais I t'ink dat dey improved b'cause dey were in de same room. I can't quite explain it Mercy, y' have t' forgive m' foolishness mais I'm so sure of it..."_

Waking from the brink of death was not how the books described. There was no holy or mystical light before his eyes, no bodiless voice booming through his mind that _'thou shall wake' _or a golden gate to heaven slammed shut in his face. There was only blurred vision and the slow trickle of pain that trailed from his finger tips to his toes. His body was numb, near unmoveable as he forced his eyes to open ever so slightly. The light of the room was blinding at first but his eyes were quick to focus. The blurs around him sharpened to form familiar figures standing on either side of him. Mercy's tearful face beamed at him as his brother grinned like it was too good to be true. Remy found himself smirking, or as close to smirking he could get in his exhausted state of sedation heaven. Mercy's equally teary voice caught his ears suddenly.

"Y' are one lucky _homme ma beau-fére." (my brother-in-law)_

His vision went dark again but that feeble smirk remained across his face. However even in the darkness of slumber, a subconscious or sense remained alive and aware. It was strange really. It was neither a thought nor an emotion, just a sort of sense that called out from the deepest part of his mind. Though what it was calling to, Remy did not know.

"_How is de petite, Tante? I heard she improved since we moved her beside Remy?"_

"_It be more dan I could 'ave hoped for Jean-Luc. Not only 'as de belle chil' improve mais so has Remy. I t'ink it is safe t' say dey may both come out o' dis."_

"_Have y' found anyt'ing out about who did dis Pére?" (father)_

"_I've had de best trackers look over de area. Not a hair nor a whisper was left."_

"_Dat can only mean one t'ing."_

"_Oui I know. Mais I have t' hope dat it wasn't...f' de treaty's sake."_

"_Where was Julien de night dis happened? Have y' had him questioned?"_

"_Ne soyez pas absurde Henri. It be bad enough dat de Assassins know o' dis. T' have Julien questioned will only add injury t' insult. In a _manner_ of speaking... Et je ne plaisante pas." ( Do not be absurd Henri. And I am not joking) _

"_...Do y' t'ink he did dis?"_

"_I would not put it past him if it was. Mais wit' de treaty so close t' bein' complete...it be a puzzle mon fils. Mais when I do find out who did dis...der_e_ won't be a treaty on Eart' binding enough t' prevent moi from leur tranchant la gorge." (From slitting their throats)_

"_Y' et moi both. Pére. Mais why try t' kill de petite? She don't look a day past eighteen. What trouble could she be?"_

"_I don't know Henri. Mais we will have t' ask when she wake up."_

"_Who is she Pére?"_

"_We gonna find out soon enough."_

It was almost like surfacing for air for the first time. From the dark waters of slumber, Marie felt life wash over her again. Like propelling from the depths of an ocean, the darkness slipped away as the air of consciousness tickled her skin and fluttered in her waking eyes. At first all she could see was light but it was shortly engulfed by the movement of figures. Flinching, she pulled back as one came too close for comfort. An apology whispered in French caught her ears before her eye sight sharpened. The wide face of a chocolate skinned woman beamed at her from her bedside.

"It is wonderful t' see y' awake chil'. Y' had us quite worried f' a couple o' days."

As the kindly woman spoke, Marie took the moment to shift about. Her limbs were stiff, mostly from disuse but a dulled ache remained in her chest. Frowning her confusion, she raised a hand to her chest only to feel the gentle roughness of bandages against her bare fingers. Panic seeped into her as she croaked frantically.

"Where are mah gloves-?"

A gentle, motherly hushing escaped the woman's lips as she reached towards a bedside table. Marie felt relief wash over her as the woman handed her gloves. She slipped them on effortlessly as she turned to look about her surroundings. A slight frown marred her face as she turned to the elderly woman.

"Where am ah?"

The woman gave a reassuring smile as she reached out for her. Marie flinched even though the woman took care, or by chance, rested her hand against her covered shoulder.

"Y' be safe chil'. I promise y'. Y' have no need t' be anxious. Y' be under de protection o' de T'ieves Guild et y' been here at de LeBeau mansion f' jus' over four days. Now don't overexert y' self. Y' still healin' _chér_." (dear)

Marie's frown deepened. _Healing?_ She cast her gaze down at her person only to find herself wrapped in a white, cotton night gown with short sleeves. The sleaves had their purpose defeated by the mountain of bandaging that covered most of her shoulders and waist. As she shifted to look over her bandages, the dull ache she had felt upon waking became stronger. She winced silently as she set her gloved hands at her sides. It was then she realised that she was lying in the most beautiful bed she had ever slept in. The four-poster mahogany bed frame was high and long while a mountain of pillows had been fastened behind her. She hadn't felt such comfort in years and it was on that note that she realised she had no idea of who's hospitalities she had imposed on.

"Ah'm sorry ma'am but who are ya?"

The woman gave a hearty chuckle as she replied swiftly.

"Oh chil' don't y' go callin' Tante dat! Y' call_ moi_ Tante jus' like everyone else. I be Mattie Baptiste. De Guild healer."

Marie couldn't help but let a small, shy smile surface at Tante Mattie's exuberance. She instantly liked her. Who wouldn't? However it was on her last few words that she became slightly tense.

"Guild healer?"

Tante Mattie nodded.

"_Oui chér._ It be ma gift. M' callin' if y' will. _Now_, y' been asleep f' a good _quatre jours. (four days)_ I wouldn't be surprised if y' mighty hungry. I'll be back t' answer any more questions_ mais_ y' need t' 'ave some food in y'. _D'accord?_ I be right back."

And with a gentle pat of reassurance to her covered knee, Tante Mattie left Marie to her thoughts. Her gaze swept over the room to find similar furnishings to her bed spread about the room. The walls were painted an off white while a pale olive colour was splashed across the wall behind her. What captured her attention most was the set of clothes placed on the end of the bed. Looking down at her exposed arms, Marie vouched for getting dressed. However it was easier said than done. The moment she sat up, her chest burned with pain. Her troubles only continued as her legs became jelly under her own weight as she stubbornly tried to stand from the bed. She was close to falling from exhaustion when Tante Mattie returned. The tray of food in her arms clattered noisily to a nearby desk as she hurried to help her in an exclamation of alarm.

"Ma Chil'! What are y' doin' out o' dat bed!? Come now, dis is what I meant by overexertin' y' self. Now get back into dat bed..."

With a gentleness that rivalled a kindly mother's, Tante Mattie eased the young woman back into the comfort of the bed and proceeded to tuck her in like a child. Marie wiped away a sheath of sweat that had covered her brow as she thanked the woman for her help. Tante Mattie literally waved off her thanks, followed by a gentle smile as she placed the tray of food onto Marie's lap.

"Ma chil', dere be no need t' t'ank_ moi_ or anyone in dis house f' dat matter. I know dat y' tried t' save Remy. We owe y' more den we could possibly offer. _Mais_ we try _non_?"

Marie gave a meek smile in return but it was quick to falter as the woman's words washed over her.

"Wait, who's Remy?"

It was Tante's turn to frown bemusedly but she was quick to recover her knowing smile.

"He goes by many names dat boy. _Gambit_ be one o' de most infamous I believe. Does dat ring a bell chil'?"

Marie was silent a moment before a flash of an Adonis-like face with pulsing red-on-black eyes spread across her thoughts. And for the very first time, a sensation overtook her unlike any other. She couldn't name it nor could she honestly define it. All she knew was that the moment his face spread across her thoughts, she was overwhelmed by a need to see him. To know he was alright. Tante Mattie's words re-wound and played in her mind once more...

"_I know dat y' tried t' save Remy."_

It was as if her will to live had been ripped from her grasp. A shudder overpowered her as her face fell into a worried frown. A desperate look spread across her face as she managed to whisper.

"Oh gawd...is he- is he-?"

She could barely get the words out it pained her that much. Marie felt something close to a panic attack grip her chest, causing her wound to burn unpleasantly.

At the young woman's panicked look, Tante Mattie could not help but eye the woman with anxious curiosity. Being a healer was not her only gift. She was a weak Empath, allowing her to read people's emotions with little difficulty. She felt but a small portion of the woman's emotions but it was enough to startle her. Tante kept silent on the issue as she reached out to rest a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulder. Her voice came out in gentle hushes before she extended her reassurances.

"Oh he be jus' fine chil'. _Je suis désole,_ I did not explain properly. Remy be jus' fine. He be asleep_ mais_ he's healin' jus' fine. Oh I am sorry _ma_ _chér,_ I didn't mean t' upset y' so..."

And suddenly that feeling of being without reason to live was lifted. Marie let out a deep, silent sigh before turning back to face the worried woman. She blinked back tears she hadn't realised were there as she replied.

"Ah'm- ah'm sorry ah- Ah don't know what's come over meh..."

Tante Mattie's gentle hold shook reassuringly as she smiled. Those honey-coloured eyes spread warmth and comfort as she replied.

"Y' been t'rough more den enough chil'. I'm not surprised y' feelin' out o' sorts. _Mais_ mebe now it be de right time t' take it easy _non_?"

Marie could only nod in agreement. Tante Mattie beamed a smile before shifting the tray of food a little closer.

"Y' best eat chil'. Y' practically skin _et_ bones as it is!"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The shadows of the tree branches danced across the sun-lit ceiling as Remy continued to stare blankly. The pain in his chest had finally dulled to a light ache. He had been lucky. Not too many men could boast about surviving a bullet to the heart. Tante Mattie had scolded him something fierce when she found him awake early that morning. She had been a puddle of tears not a moment later as she sobbed that he had given her the scare of her life. However it was not his recovery that concerned him most. Shortly after waking, he had asked how the woman was. Tante Mattie had beamed at him as she replied that she's was doing just fine and only needed time and sleep to recover. At her words, for reasons unknown to him, his heart had practically burst with relief-

His thoughts were broken by the sound of the door creaking. Remy turned in time to watch as his father closed the door shut behind him. He brandished a relieved smirk as he approached him.

"How y' feelin' _mon fils_?"

Remy's voice rasped; a mere fraction of his usual smirk across his face.

"Sore _mais_ alive."

The elder Thief gave a hearty chuckle as he sat himself in the chair beside the bed. For a moment or two his head remained downturned and his gaze hidden from his son's gaze. A shaky, deep sigh escaped him as he reached out and grasped his son's hand and squeezed it. His usual stern expression or charming smirk was resolved to a severe look while he spoke.

"Y' gave us a real scare Remy. I hope y' know how lucky y' be."

Remy nodded. Upon waking, he found that not only had he had a bullet removed from his heart but that Tante Mattie had been very fortunate to be able to heal most of the damage without complications. Bandage upon bandage was wrapped around most of his shoulder and chest while his left arm hung in a sling. He often found himself fiddling with the rim of the sling in his ceiling musings. His fingers brushed the rim of the sling as he replied, his gaze set away from his father's as he spoke.

"How is she?"

Jean-Luc gave a slight shrug-turned-sigh as he replied calmly.

"She's awake. Tante's force feeding her."

Remy gave a small chuckle but replied on a sober note.

"She be alright den?"

Jean-Luc nodded.

"Either she has a stubborn streak or she be one lucky _femme_. Dat bullet...it..._mon Dieu_ Remy, if she hadn't intervened...Do y' know how much trouble would come o' dis? Not jus' de treaty or- I would never be able t'-"

His father let out a deep sigh as his brow wrinkled in a frown. He couldn't seem to find any words. His gaze swept the floor as Remy remained silent and watchful. He let out another sigh before catching his son's gaze again. It was with a sudden shock that Remy realised there were tears in his father's eyes. It was humbling- no, humanising of the Thieves Guild Patriarch to show such emotion. Remy gave his best reassuring look as he grasped his father's hand in his and held it tight.

"I know _Pére_. I know..."

_****_

_**REVIEW!**_

_**Nov '09- A little note. I have to say the changes made to the very last scene worked better than the original published chapter. Hope those of you who re-read this agree!**_

_**-Gams**_


	4. Escapees

_**Chapter Three –Escapees **_

_**Chapter Three –Escapees **_

"_If y' so much as put a foot out o' dat bed Remy LeBeau, I will knock y' into next week!"_

Remy grumbled silently as he laid bed-ridden in the confines- no, _cage_ that was his bedroom. After finally regaining consciousness not three days ago, he had been force fed, fussed over and frustrated by the fact that he couldn't do simple tasks such as walk on his own two feet without help. If he wasn't recovering from a near death experience, he knew his brother and cousins would have teased him to no end. He felt like a child sick in bed with the way Tante Mattie fussed over him. If he so much as grunted or shifted, she was onto him. And as much as he loved Tante he hated it when she fussed over him. His injured state didn't improve his chances of escaping her fussing either. So that was why he waited; waited until Tante Mattie had to leave to attend to dinner for the rest of the household. He remained still and vigilant as her distinctive footsteps echoed down the hallway outside his door. It was only when she reached the stairs that he pushed back the covers and carefully slipped his feet over the edge.

It was nice to finally stand on his own- for about a second before the aching in his chest spread to his legs. As his knees bended like rubber, his head began to spin but after holding onto the bedpost for support for a good half a minute, the world snapped into focus and he was making his way across the room. A satisfied sigh escaped him as he reached the bedroom door. He had always been a fast healer but even he had to admit that he had never recovered so quickly before. But then again, he had never taken a bullet to the heart before.

His footsteps barely struck a sound as he made his way down the silent hallway but the real difficulty came when going down the stairs. Each step had its own creak of weakness.

It was a minefield.

Every time the wooden steps creaked under his feet, Remy would silently curse and become as still as a marble statue as he waited for Tante Mattie to come reeling like an enraged Banshee. He sighed silently in relief when he made it to the last step but was quick to remember his initial quest. He had spent five days cold turkey without so much as a whiff of a cigarette.

Once outside, he was a free agent. The warm evening air engulfed him with a sense of refreshment as he walked steadily across the grass lawn that tickled the soles of his feet. The estate grounds were a jungle of their own with the tall walls set around the perimeter, allowing protection if not privacy for its occupants. Remy had barely skimmed twenty feet away from the house when he stopped behind a particularly large oak tree only to pull out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. With the pinch of his finger tips, the cigarette lit with a kinetic charge. He took a long drag and exhaled; enjoying the breath of _fresh_ air as it slipped through his nostrils. The cancer stick dangled between his fingers as he leant against the tree's spine and swept his gaze of the familiar grounds.

To think that the last time he had looked at his home was almost the last.

Another sigh escaped him as he dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his heel. It seemed pointless now to tempt death any further, pointless_ and_ stupid. Absentmindedly he began to pace the wilder parts of the plantation. His feet did the thinking for him. He had the entire plantation burned into his memory so there was no real means of getting lost but just this once he wanted to pretend that he was. It would match well with the mess he was already lost in. A deep sigh erupted from him. Perhaps putting out that cigarette had been a mistake after all, he thought. At least _that _had proven to be a distraction. He contemplated jumping the fence and exploring the bayou that surrounded the house but ended the idea before he even reached the fence. _"Dead give away." _He didn't want to get mud on his feet. Tante Mattie would be looking for him by now and he didn't need any more evidence against him and his _unauthorized escapade. _He decided it was best to keep to the grounds and continued on down the invisible path his feet seemed to follow. However while his feet seemed programmed in their stride and destination, his gaze was free to roam the evening scene. The familiar every-day scene caused a slight frown to mar his handsome face. Again the thought that he could have lost all this plagued his mind. He could have lost his family, his home; everything that was a part of his life-

He was suddenly brought out of the maze that was his mind as an out-of-place but certainly familiar sight appeared in his view some feet away...

He felt something in him, that something he couldn't name nor define _awaken_ fully at the sight of her. His feet took charge of his destination much like before. He was walking towards her before he could think to stop himself.

"_Bonsoir chére_." (Good evening dear)

Though he said it softly, the young woman was startled as she came away from her own thoughts. He had watched her no more than half a minute from a distance but somehow he knew she had been miles away in her thoughts. As soon as those flecks of green ice landed on him, they flickered with surprise for a moment then brightened as the full extent of the emotion lit up her face. Remy found himself in difficultly to breathe for a moment. Never had he seen such eyes.

He fell out of his thoughts once he realised she was staring at him with a glint of confusion in those timeless eyes. Remy cleared his throat and put on a fragment of his hold smirk.

"We never got t' exchange names _chére_. I be Remy LeBeau."

He held out a hand in offering. She eyed it sceptically as if it would bite. Remy uttered an amused, anxious chuckle.

"Remy don't bite _chére_."

Still sceptical, the woman reached out and slid her delicate gloved hand into his. He felt the warmth of her hand pulse even through the fabric of her glove.

_So warm..._ He thought.

When she did not say anything, he raised his brow and attempted to catch her gaze with his as he spoke.

"May Remy have de honour o' knowing y' name _belle_?" (beautiful)

It was as if the woman suddenly came alive again. If he was not mistaken, she shook her head slightly as if to shake away her quiet disposition. The lightest of blushes spread across her lily-white cheeks as she replied gently.

"Ah'm sorry... It's Marie."

Her voice sounded rough from disuse. Even so, that sultry Southern accent sent nothing but tremors down his spine. _Marie... _He practiced silently to himself. He grinned a little wider and she blushed deeper. She still wouldn't quite meet his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to catch it. Instead he remained with her hand in his and raised it to his lips. He felt her pulse quicken under his lips.

"Dat's a pretty name _chére_."

That blush he was now so fond of deepened but he was disappointed when she drew back her hand. He realised as she tucked it under her sling-bound arm that she was wrapped in a very familiar pale yellow shawl...

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when Marie spoke.

"Ah should head back. You're Aunt won't beh happy t' know ah snuck out."

He almost laughed at the irony of the situation but wasn't given leave to as she began to walk away. Something sank within him, something close to the heart. He followed quickly.

"Wait a minute _chére-"_

She stopped abruptly and froze like a statue the moment his hand rested on her covered shoulder. A confusion he didn't quite understand emerged in him but it was swiftly forgotten when she turned to look at him. And _really _looked at him for the first time...

He swore he couldn't breathe in that moment.

And then it all came shattering to a halt with the familiar call of his name. The connection between them snapped in two and Remy was forced to turn around in the direction of the caller. It was twice he was surprised that morning.

"Remy!"

His fiancée's face lit up with a mixture of anger and relief. Thankfully, for the moment, it was relief that won out of the two as she raced towards him at a quick pace. As soon as he was within reach, she pulled him down for a quick embrace only to push him back and slap him up the back of the head. He hadn't the time to say 'ouch' before she was berating him about the engagement party he had so _dramatically _missed. Her violet eyes simmered angrily.

"Y' _grand fou! _Y' ditched our engagement party t' get y' self _shot!"_

"Bella-"

"_Que pensiez-vous? Sortir le soir où tu savais mon frère et ses amis seraient hors de votre sang?_"

(What were you thinking? Going out that night when you knew my brother and his friends would be out for your blood?)

Remy sighed as she continued to rant in French. He realised now that perhaps he should have been more careful that night, before the shooting. Belladonna's discerning gaze did not ease the pass of his mistake either. However when those violet pools became glossing with tears, he felt an abundance of guilt overwhelm him. He held no contempt for Belladonna over their arranged marriage. She was as much a victim of the treaty as he and as much of a sham their pending wedding would be, it was _hers._ It was the only _real_ wedding she- or inevitably _he_- would ever have. The other night had been important to her but he knew that it flailed in comparison to her worry for him. They had been close friends since childhood. Of course she would be worried. Right now he assumed she was just angry at him and at herself for being too emotional. The second smack to his head by the flick of her wrist was evidence of that. She tended to act out on him whenever her emotions were in uproar.

"Damn y' LeBeau! Y' nearly got y' self killed!"

She began to pace on the spot, sending him a meaningful glare his way now and again as she forced back tears. Belladonna was probably the only one he knew capable of hiding her emotions with ease around people. All but him of course. When she came near enough, he reached out and pulled her into a one-armed hug he knew she needed. She punched his good arm none too lightly but he bit back a groan of pain. She cursed him in French one last time before relaxing. When she was calm, Remy spoke.

"_Je suis desóle_ _ma ami._ _Mais_ I was jus' helpin' a fellow t'ief. T'ings got out o' hand..."

He didn't know why he didn't tell her it was a woman he had tried to help. Even in their betrothed state, he somehow figured it a bad idea to tell Bella everything. Not after what Julien had done before they were shot. He fell out of thought when Bella pulled out of his arms. She sniffed once and wiped her eyes before setting a stony glare his way.

"Y' one o' ma best _amis_ Remy. _Mais _ify' die on_ moi_, I'll bring y' back _et_ kill y' m'self!"

Though Remy chuckled, he didn't double her capabilities. No matter how far fetched it seemed, he knew Bella would've found a way to reach the impossible. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. He thought of kissing her head but the thought became dry and foul in his mind. He frowned for a moment. _When had that ever been the case?_ He recovered with a light chuckle as he replied warmly.

"T'anks for caring Bella. It's nice t' know y' do now _et _again."

Bella punched him one last time, emitting a light grunt of pain from him before she spoke.

"So what are y' doin' out here anyhow?"

Hit with a cold shock of realisation, Remy turned to where Marie had stood...to find she had disappeared all too soon.

_****_

_**Oh does it feel wonderful to be back in the game. Great news you guys! I've got 4 months off and LOADS of time for writing again! REVIEW!**_

_**-Gams**_


	5. Every Swirl of Emotion

_**Chapter Four – Every Swirl of Emotion**_

Sneaking out had been easier than Marie had anticipated. From the berating Tante Mattie had unleashed on Remy down the hall, she was sure the woman would have her ears to her door as well. However it seemed that Tante Mattie was more trusting of her than her misbehaving nephew. Marie felt a little guilty in pressing the woman's trust but for the life of her she could not stand another minute trapped in that room, no matter how luxuriously beautiful it was. She was going a little stir crazy not knowing what was going on outside those doors and beyond the boundaries of the LeBeau estate. But more than anything, she just wanted to get out and see for herself that life..._her life_ wasn't as different as it felt. That she was still Marie...still the untouchable.

She had drifted over the grounds, staying close to the house until she stood at the edge of a large pond that was locked between the perimeter walls and a tall oak tree. Her feet had found their way there from the open window she climbed through from the lowest level of the house. Her sling-bound arm restrained her from any brash attempt at besting the window in her room. A dull ache had pulled at her chest but it was only partially from her injury. The real ache seemed lodged into her very soul.

"_How can ah feel so different but still the same..."_

It made no sense in a logical world to be exactly the same but feel so different. But then again, she had had a close brush with death. Was this a defect of that? This feeling of vulnerability and displacement from this world...

Marie pulled the shawl she had borrowed from the closet in her room a little closer. The evening chill was not terrible but even so, she shuddered. She stared into the water with a lost expression, her eyes following the ripples in the water surface.

And suddenly it was like rising from the depths of the thickest fog.

"_Bonsoir chére."_

All feelings of displacement and vulnerability disappeared merely with his presence. It was surreal but only right to say that everything seemed to fall into place, _the right place,_ as soon as those strange eyes set themselves on her. She supposed to everyone else, such eyes would've seemed frightening but the feeling didn't so much as brush against her subconscious. All she saw was a pair of red jewels set in a sea of darkness, fire set in ash that burned with warmth she could almost feel-

Returning to the present, Marie let out a shaky sigh and leant against her bedroom door for support. Her heart beat at a frenzied rhythm twice as strong as it seemed to have been a minute ago. With her back to the door, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The memory remained fresh and supple in her mind, filled with every swirl of emotion that had wrecked her heart in those brief minutes. She had no idea why but the moment she looked into those strange, beautiful eyes she felt...complete again;_ whole_. Like every wound, both past and present, had become completely healed without so much as a scar. Her heart hadn't stopped thrumming at a reckless beat since the moment his fingers brushed against her gloved hand. It was unbelievable to think someone could sustain such a reaction in her. Sure, she became uncomfortable when people touched her, whether it was a handshake, a careful hug or even a brush of shoulders while walking down the street. But somehow _he_ was not the same.

_So warm..._

Something inside her had told her that and it couldn't have been more true. Warmth had coursed through her skin even through her gloved hands at his touch. Subconsciously, Marie raised her gloved hand and clasped it to her chest in a tight fist. A light, worried frown spread across her features as she opened her eyes.

"_What the hell is wrong with meh?"_

She wanted to say it was nothing but it...it actually _hurt_ too much to even think it. A painful ache had throbbed in her chest, running deeper than the wound near her heart. It wasn't _nothing_ at all. Something had happened...something she couldn't name or understand in words. She _felt it_ alright. She understood that much but she would not allow herself to go completely _ga-ga_ over this storm of feelings. She would _not_ get mixed in with the likes of the Thieves Guild or their significant members.

A light scoff escaped her as she stepped away from the door and towards the bed once more. She muttered to herself aimlessly.

"That'd beh the least o' mah troubles..."

Without warning, her thoughts drifted back to the time Remy had stopped her from leaving. She was sure that if they hadn't been interrupted, she would've drowned in those red-on-black eyes she had tried so hard to avoid. Her light smirk instantly grew cold and grave as thoughts of their interruption- or _interrupter_ came to mind. When Belladonna had suddenly arrived on the scene, she had had the good sense to cut her surprise short. From there it had been nothing but a priority to leave before she could be noticed by the blonde Assassin. She didn't fancy the idea of being reunited with _both_ of the Boudreaux siblings in the same week...

But there was more than that...

Marie let out another deep-held sigh as she laid back into the mountain of pillows on her bed. When Remy's back had been turned, she had slipped away without notice as Bella rounded the corner of the house. Belladonna hadn't had the _chance _to see her but even so, as their conversation became dulled into the background, a strange sort of pain sensation had grasped her chest. It wasn't nearly as terrible as the pain she'd felt when Tante Mattie had alluded to Remy's demise but it certainly made it difficult to breathe. She had been walking slowly and yet she had felt as if she had just run the length of the state. However the pain was nothing to how she _felt._ An unreasonable anger had flourished as she listened to Belladonna's muffled words to Remy. It didn't matter that her words grew blurred and indistinguishable with each step of distance she put between them. The blonde's tone of voice spoke her claim far stronger than any distinguishable words could.

Marie frowned.

It had almost been like she was...

_Jealous._

She shook herself, as if to rid the residue of those feelings. It was completely absurd

...and somehow felt completely_ reasonable._

****

**Yes a very short update but I felt it was right to put up a take on Marie's feelings and ensure that the chapter was totally focused on her.**

**...and I honestly couldn't put out any more words. That'd tip this chapter off balance I think. Haha.**


	6. Neglect of Detail

_**All I can say is, I know I was in limbo for a while but I'm back for the moment. Thanks to the faithful readers who stuck around for the wait! **_

_**-Gams **_

_**Chapter Five – Neglect of Detail**_

A frustrated sigh escaped Marie's lips as she came to a halt in front of a white and blue china vase on a stand. No matter how long she had been staying in this house- or _mansion _as it turned out, she could never quite find her bearings. It was a maze and she had become lost to it once again. She scowled at the offending landmark. Having passed it about twice before since leaving her room in search of the dining hall, she was now at the conviction that she was going in circles. With an aggravated sigh and a roll of her eyes, she began the usual circle route once again. In her mind she foolishly hoped that an indication would jump out in neon lights _'this way to the dining room!'_ but knowing the _great_ unlikelihood that that would happen, she would settle for a staircase that didn't lead to whole other floor level like the last stairwell she had ventured.

Her luck took a new turn when she spotted a pair of double doors that she had not passed before. On a leap of faith, she turned one of the vine-like handles and opened the doors only to pause like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes widened with surprise; across the room stood the ever-distinguished patriarch of the Thieves Guild. He paused in mid-motion, posed to turn off the light on his desk and raised his eyes to meet hers. A warm, slow smile spread across his lips as Marie felt her cheeks warm. Though they had never formally been introduced, she had seen Jean-Luc LeBeau from time to time in her semi-conscious state over the last couple of days. _Now_ she felt as if she was invading his privacy and began to struggle for words.

"Ah'm sorry, ah didn't mean t' intrude-"

She let out what she deemed an unusually nervous chuckle.

"Ah'm a little-"

"Lost,_ ma petite_?"

Marie could only muster a weak smile and nod. The elder man's smile filled with amusement as he uttered a soft chuckle and proceeded to turn off his desk lamp. He replied in good humour as he walked towards her at a casual stride.

"I am not surprised. We 'ave lost many good t'ieves in dis fortress. Of course we find one or two o' dem every year or so. Most in one piece."

At Marie's sudden, blank expression his handsome face became enraptured with a curved grin and a teasing glint of mischief shone clearly through his eyes. Realizing her naive mistake, Marie blushed a new shade of pink before offering a shy smile and another nervous chuckle. Jean-Luc turned off the main light switch and closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the light-lit hallway. He was about to speak again when something caused him to stop quite suddenly. Marie became anxious again as his gaze came to linger on her a moment too long. His eyes glazed over for a moment and widened ever so slightly as a sort of stunned expression crossed his face. With Mister LeBeau quite lost down the rabbit hole, Marie tried to break his trance by speaking up gently.

"Mister LeBeau? Are- are ya alright sir?"

Jean-Luc seemed to snap out of his momentary lapse. He shook his head slightly, as if to shake the away the momentary lapse of attention, but he did not avert his gaze from what Marie realised had been on the yellow shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Those brown eyes shone with a memory; a memory she felt she had intruded upon. When he spoke, his voice was calm and polite but reminiscent of his previous expression.

"_Ma petite_...where did y' find dat shawl?"

Marie had never felt a twinge of guilt in taking the possessions of others for a high price, but the moment those words escaped Jean-Luc LeBeau's lips, she felt a world of guilt tug at her heart strings. Her voice caught on her words as she replied anxiously.

"Ah- ah found it in...in the closet in mah room."

When he did not cease that guilt-inspiring look, she anxiously un-wrapped the fabric from around her shoulders. Like a child caught with a stolen toy, she offered to return it.

"Would ya lahke meh to put it back?"

Finally, Jean-Luc came back to his senses. He blinked and that far away, glazed look in his eyes disappeared only to be replaced with alarm. He shook his head gently in vigorous refusal.

"No, no, no! _Ma petite,_"

He reached out and with tenderness she had never been too familiar with and took the shawl from her hands. He adjusted it around her shoulders once more, taking care not to touch the exposed skin of her neckline. His expression regained its warm, charming exterior as he replied kindly.

"_Je suis désole_ for my rudeness. De yellow colour suits y' _petite_."

Though Marie was reassured, she could not help but wonder why such a garment would warrant such a reaction from the patriarch of the Thieves Guild. Was it a family heirloom? She hadn't the chance to think about it let alone ask. Instead, Jean-Luc gallantly offered her his arm as he spoke in what she was sure wasn't a mockery of gallantry. It was obvious to her that Jean-Luc had been brought up as an old fashioned Southern gentleman.

Just like his son.

"May I have de pleasure of escorting y' to dinner? I hope y' like Creole cuisine _ma petite. _I believe Tante Mattie has prepared enough t' feed a small army."

Marie could not suppress a smile as she took his arm and allowed him to lead the way. There were so few men of the calibre Jean-Luc LeBeau came from, she could not help but be taken in by the refreshing change. Most men, even at Jean-Luc's age, were not nearly so gracious. Without thinking, her Southern drawl thickened to its old strength as she replied without so much as a hint of restraint.

"Mah mothah was a Louisiana girl sir. She'd have killed meh if ah didn't lahke Creole food."

To her unexpected delight, Jean-Luc uttered a warm, hearty chuckle.

"Mattie will be thrilled t' hear dat I'm sure!"

When Marie and Jean-Luc arrived at the dining room there was already a full table of people talking amongst Tante Mattie's loud orders coming from the kitchen next door. Marie could not help a secret smile at the sight. However as boisterous and unpredictable the lot of them were, there was a certain charm to this family of Thieves that she couldn't help but admire with a spot of jealousy. They were fortunate to be so carefree in spite of their profession.

Marie was brought out of her thoughts when all too quickly everyone took notice of her all at once. After the initial flood of greetings and introductions and a wave of charm from _every_ man at the table, she was finally able to sit down. Marie was thankful when Tante Mattie ushered them away from her however she quickly realised that the woman only did it to inflict her own fussing. She asked tenderly if she was hungry _while _she began to pile her plate with food. Marie barely needed to lift a finger except to pick up her own cutlery and dig into the small mountain before her. The elderly woman beamed triumphantly when she swallowed the first bite and didn't rush for the glass of water on the table. _"Y' be a true Southerner ma chil'. Dat we can be sure!"_ The many platters of fried chicken, corn on the cob, Gumbo and Jambalaya spoke rich spices that awoke her taste buds from what appeared to have been a living death. Jean-Luc's joking words of _'enough to feed a small army' _rang true and then some in her mind. However amongst all the spices and good ol' Southern hospitality, Marie lost interest the moment Remy stepped into the room.

From her place between Mercy and Etienne, their eyes met for a moment only to break almost unwillingly when Tante Mattie began to berate him for being late. Like her, he was sat down in a chair before he could answer and a mountain of food was piled onto his plate. Tante Mattie was not finished with her scolding however as she stood beside him. Marie had no doubt that despite being at least two heads shorter than Remy, she had the temper to out-height him and any other poor fool who managed to aggravate her temper. She stood with a well-worn scowl across her face and her hands perched on her hips.

"Now don't y' t'ink I don't notice y' were out o' dat bed o' yours earlier Remy Etienne LeBeau. Y' go out dis house again while y' on de mend- Lord knows y' won't be mendin' quick enough when I'm done wit' y'!"

Remy gave a smirk a devil disguised in an angel's robe would give, causing Tante Mattie to narrow her eyes to press her point. After uttering a charming apology and _promise _to keep to the house, he turned to meet Marie's gaze and winked. Marie felt her cheeks flush pink at being caught eavesdropping. By _him_ of all people. She quickly turned her expression into a warning glare. It only amused him further as he gave a small chuckle and rewarded her with a winning smirk. She turned back to her food, scowling. However her heart, which had not stopping thumping away at a crazed pace since he entered the room, continued to betray her expression. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. She was about to excuse herself and return upstairs when the person beside her nudged her covered arm. Even against the cover of her sleeve, she flinched involuntarily at the contact of Mercy's hand. She covered her reaction with a kind smile as Mercy LeBeau crinkled her brow with concern. Mercy was one of the few female thieves present and had quickly befriended Marie in the time she had spent at the LeBeau manor. She was also married to Remy's elder brother Henri. The blonde woman gave a concerned look towards her bandaged side as she spoke.

"Marie _ma chér_ are y' feelin' alright? Y' not feelin' light headed or anythin'? All de ruckus goin' about here, maybe we should 'ave warned ya a lil' more-"

It still surprised Marie to hear her name being spoken so freely, even from these practical strangers that had taken her in so effortlessly as their guest. She had gone by the name _Rogue_ so long; it was alien to her ears to hear her real name. But what also struck her was that she hadn't even given it to any of them.

Her gaze darted towards Remy for a moment.

_Just Remy._

Turning away with effortless ease in a matter of seconds, Marie rested a reassuring, _gloved_ hand on Mercy's arm. She silently kicked herself for her sloppiness. _Rogue_ did not go about telling practical strangers her true name. As vague as _Marie_ was, it was potentially hazardous to have offered it so freely.

"_A childish mistake!"_

She berated herself silently as she replied kindly.

"Ah'm fahne Mercy. Jus' ate too much ah think."

Mercy eased almost completely as she let out a bright laugh. Her Cajun accent grew thick as she whispered loudly.

"Don't let Tante know _ma ami, _she got a cake de size o' dis table t' come out o' de kitchen. Break her heart if y' didn't try it."

Marie's face fell slightly but when the monster of a cake did come out to the dining room, she was saved by Mercy who vouched to smuggle her piece of cake to one of the many LeBeau men set about the table. When the cake was reduced to but a few crumbs on the platter, half of the table's occupants dispersed and only the main branch of the family was left with Marie. Soon while the four remaining males of the family remained in the dining room, Marie accompanied Mercy and Tante into the kitchen. She was forbidden to lift a finger while the two LeBeau women began to stack the dishes into the dishwasher.

"I be a spoiled woman Marie _chér_, y' know why chil'?"

Marie could not help but smile at the incredulousness of the question as she shook her head. Tante Mattie let out a sigh of impatience and replied with a helpless shrug.

"I jus' cannot imagine life wit' out dis dishwasher _et_ upon ma soul, I ain't goin' t' find out!"

A round of chuckles broke out in the room as Tante Mattie happily set the dishwasher to its task and stood back from it with a proud smile. While the LeBeau women began to cover the few left over food and stock them into the fridge, Marie stood with her back to the isle bench that stood in the middle of the kitchen. Her gaze fell over the far reaches of the grand kitchen, a content smile spread across her face. Though she dared not to say it out loud, Tante Mattie's kitchen made her nostalgic in a sense that...

"Marie _ma chér?"_

Rogue turned to face Tante Mattie who looked back with a look tainted by concern.

"Are y' alright chil'? Y' be awful quiet over dere..."

Marie found that she had been quick to take a liking to Tante Mattie and all her motherly charms. Her kindly but lightly concerned looks brought back memories of another's she thought she had long forgotten. The reminder she found in Tante Mattie was bitter-sweet. Not that she let it show. She brandished a practiced smile but found solace that it was not completely false as she assured the old woman that she was perfectly fine.

"Jus' admirin' the scenery Tante. Not every day ya stay in an' ol' fashioned N'Orleans house lahke this. Makes a Southern girl nostalgic, that's for sure."

While Tante Mattie beamed with pride, the concern in her honey-brown eyes was not eased. Nevertheless, she silently accepted the cover answer and proudly began to boast wisely that only a _true _Southerner could appreciate the old fashioned New Orleans furnishings. However before she could attempt another answer from the secretive girl, the back door to the kitchen swung open and a figure stepped in. Pulling off her coat, a young woman stepped into the kitchen with the brightest shade of green hair Marie had ever seen. She greeted Tante and Mercy warmly but when she came to focus on Marie, her smile brightened with excitement as she practically lunged at her. The short, young girl practically bounced as she exclaimed brightly.

"_Oh! You must be-_ You're the girl who helped Rems aren't you? You're real pretty you know that? Like, so much prettier than Et said. _Trust Et_ to get it wrong..."

Marie exchanged a anxious smile with Mercy and Tante Mattie who both chuckled and shook their heads. Mercy explained.

"Rogue, dis be Meg Vinu. Our _bébe _of de clan. She's also Remy et Henri's first cousin. _Meg chérie_ try not to bowl poor Marie over. She's still recovering _oui?_"

Meg gave a truly girlish giggle and covered her lips, her cheeks a flush of pink as she apologized sweetly.

"Sorry about that. I'm just so pleased to finally meet you! My cousin Emil and I have been in Memphis on job all week and I was really worried we wouldn't get back in time, because I was _so _looking forward to meeting you..."

As the young girl continued to rabbit on, Marie caught Mercy and Tante Mattie's amused and at the same time exasperated looks but they were distracted once again when the kitchen door pushed open and Remy entered the room. Again, Marie found his gaze quickly matched hers only to be cut off, _again_, this time by Meg flying at her cousin with a gleeful squeal. She began to babble about how worried she and Emil were and that if he _ever _did something so stupid as get shot again, she would _shoot him_ herself. While Remy threw back his head and laughed heartily, _"It's good too see y' too petite une." (little one)_ he brought his little cousin close in a one-armed hug (his arm still tenderly placed in a sling) and kissed her forehead before roughing her fringe between his fingers. Marie watched in amusement as the green haired youth wrinkled her nose and scowled at the action. However when Remy's eyes shifted to meet hers, she stopped and realised she had chuckled out loud. She didn't scowl in reproach this time.

The odd moment was amended when Tante Mattie began to prepare a tray of tea and coffee to be taken into the lounge room. There, she announced kindly, that they would _talk_.

Marie hid the sudden tremor of unease as she followed the Guild matron into the spacious confines of the lounge room, followed by Mercy, Tante and Remy. Meg, much to the young girl's disappointment, was sent away with the insistence that it was not for her ears to listen.

As soon as everyone was comfortable, the discomfort began.

Jean-Luc, though not in a very interrogating manner, began the unavoidable discussion.

"Now Marie, I promise y' dat whatever y' tell us will remain between us and dese four walls. _Mais_ we must ask y' a few questions about de night of y' _et _Remy's _accident._"

Marie took on the cloak of a well mastered facade of cool and composure as she nodded in agreement. With it understood that whatever was said remained only with them, Jean-Luc continued.

"First I will explain what _we _know of the situation. When we realised dat Remy was missing, we sent out a few of our own to track him down. Etienne and Henri received a tip off dat dere were some Assassins in de area and, by a stroke of good fortune I must say, found y' _deux_ in dat alleyway."

Marie felt a shiver of nostalgic discomfort course through her veins like ice as she gripped the seat slightly with her free hand. Oddly though, at the back of her mind a strange sense much like her own feelings began to seep to the front of her conscious mind. She mentally shook it off as she continued to listen to a now-grave looking Jean-Luc. He took a pause before continuing. It appeared she was not the only one uncomfortable with the subject.

"Now I know dat dis is a talk we would all like t' avoid _mais _we really must discuss dis now, while de memories are fresh. I 'ave not spoken wit' either of y' on de subject in de hope o' piecing dis together wit' de both of y' present. Dat way, it is done. We suspected dat it was de Assassins dat were followin' Remy dat night. _Mon fils_, do y' believe dat y' were being followed?"

Remy barely opened his mouth to answer no when Marie spoke up hastily. Catching his gaze for a split moment, she silently willed him not to say anything as she spoke.

"Mister LeBeau. The Assassins were following meh, not your son."

The small LeBeau clan turned to stare at her, all with mixed looks of confusion.

"Why would dey have reason to follow y' _petite?"_

Marie took a deep breath, but Jean-Luc interpreted it as a reluctant one and spoke first. The already chivalrous guild master took the moderate tone of a genuine leader.

"Being thieves, we are obviously well adapted to keeping secrets. And since y' risked y' life for our Remy. We are obligated- _I_ am obligated to keep whatever secret y' entrust us. No one in dis house will tell a soul should dat be y' desire."

Marie nodded before giving her decided answer but little did she know how much she was being scrutinized. Remy, who stood against the nearby wall, had locked not only his gaze on Marie but his other mutant ability. Gifted with empathy, he could sense emotions and from what he could read off Marie, she was showing very slight signals to say that she was lying. Not entirely but there was a thread of lies between the facts. When she had answered for him, he had been certain that she was trying to cover something up. Silent, he decided he would listen. But he would not be kept in the dark forever.

"Ah'm a thief for hire Mister LeBeau. Ah hired to steal a jewelled necklace from a private collection when ah was cornered by a group of Assassins."

Henri was the first to voice his doubts while Remy stood silent and observant.

"But why would dey chase y' _petite? _Assassins' lust is usually for blood, not jewels. But then again, dey be ruthless in deir reasoning._"_

Marie feigned an uncertain shrug convincingly enough.

"Ah'm not sure but ah imagine that the jewel ah stole for mah client was what interested them. Ah've run into mah fair share of Assassins over the years. Their reasoning is precarious."

All save for Remy nodded in moderate agreement. Jean-Luc continued to stare her down with inquisitive eyes.

"Did y' _know_ any of de Assassins _petite?_"

Remy held his gaze on Marie as she replied without a pause to signify the lie that passed between her lips.

"Ah make it a priority _not to_."

Remy's brow furrowed slightly as she continued to raise _plausible_ reasons for why they had been after her. Though he would not say anything to contradict her just now, he wondered why she felt the need to leave out the fact that she _knew_ Julien somehow. Remy knew for certain that there was history between the two of them. And while he did not blame her for keeping that to herself, the fact it was Julien Boudreaux who was concerned, he was more than curious.

He pulled away from his own musings to realise the subject had changed to the more _gruesome details_ of their night.

"We cannot explain how it is y' _both _survived your injuries. It is a _mystére _(mystery). De bullet was not'ing we 'ave not seen. The wounds, as severe as dey were..."

The guild master paused to take a deep sigh as a troubled look spread across his face. Tante Mattie who sat beside him, rest a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort and spoke for him. It was evident that speaking of it was equally difficult for her as well.

"Dere were so many odds against y'. Not jus' de wounds dat were so close t' damaging y' hearts- de blood, y' both lost so much blood..."

Jean-Luc took the turn to grasp Mattie by the hand in comfort. The elderly woman pushed back tears as she tried to calm herself. Marie felt a tug of guilt, knowing how much this affected them. Instinctively, she turned to face Remy only to catch his gaze. Unlike the fleeting moments that had transpired before, this lock of gazes was full of an intensity neither had expected nor could name. Little did either comprehend what had happened at that moment. But they would soon realise the chain reaction of occurrences that fell into place after that fateful stare.

"Would anyone like a coffee? Marie _chér, _would y' like a hot drink? Y' look a _petite_ bit pale _non?"_

Marie turned away her gaze, severing the connection. The elderly woman smile kindly, her eyes still glossy with hidden tears. She shook her head gently and thanked her for the offer but refused. Mattie asked everyone if they cared for anything from the kitchen but barely stayed long enough to catch the silent replies as she headed for her sanctuary. When she had left, Mercy turned to Marie with a tender, saddened look and spoke softly.

"Tante has been on her feet _et_ by y' _et_ Remy's side since y' were brought here."

At Marie's somewhat bewildered, anxious look, Mercy continued and did her best to sooth her worries with words and a gentle smile.

"Do not worry _ma ami,_ she just needs time t' take it all in. Tante is a strong woman _et_ would be disgruntled to know anyone was hurtin' on her account."

Though the last part was said with a knowing affection, Marie could not help feel a heavy weight of responsibility on her shoulders. She had caused so much distress in this family of thieves...

"_Not y' fault chérie."_

Looking up suddenly, she expected to find Remy standing before her but was surprised to find he was still standing across the room against the wall. But his voice, or what she was certain had been his voice, had sounded so close and crisp on her ears. She passed the oddity off as her mind playing tricks. No one had said anything. She was imagining things again.

"_Once ah'm out of here ah'll start feelin' better._ _It's gotta beh some kind of post-stress symptom or somethin'."_

Finally, with the questioning finished (for the moment) the family members began to depart amicably. However before Marie could begin the confusing trek back to her room, Jean-Luc asked her if she needed an escort back to her room. She was in the middle of refusing when Remy stepped up to take the task.

"It would be_ mon plaisir_. _Et _we wouldn't want our guest getting lost _non_?"

With a charming smirk, he turned to the door and opened it courteously for her to pass through first. Though a little disgruntled, Marie could not refuse. From the moment she had _neglected_ to mention Julien Boudreaux had been her attacker, she knew he would be trouble. She had been surprised to find he had not spoken sooner but now she realised he planned to question her in privacy.

"_A true thief. Figures."_

And sure enough, as soon as they had made it to her floor, the Cajun's nimble fingers laced around her upper arm in a secure hold. He gently pushed her towards a moon-lit window in the shadows and stood to face her with that ever present smirk across his lips.

"Now _chére._ Would y' be so kind as t' explain t'_ moi_ why y' neglected t' mention a few details about a certain assassin in dere?"

_****_

_**Don't hate me. ;) **_

_**REVIEW PLEASE! I'd love to hear if I've got my ball rolling again! **_

_**Thanks to the ever faithful reviewers! **_


	7. Withholding

_**Chapter Six – Withholding **_

"Now _chére._ Would y' be so kind as t' explain t'_ moi_ why y' neglected t' mention a few details about a certain assassin in dere?"

Marie wasn't unprepared for his questioning. Holding her composure in a cold mask, she scowled as she replied icily.

"Ah've already explained things to your family. Why can't ya accept what ya heard in there?"

That every present, wiry smile held in place as he replied calmly.

"I am not interested in fabrications _chére._"

Glaring, Marie tried to pull free of his hold only for his fingers to strengthen the firm hold on her good arm. Her scowl intensified and her teeth gritted as she told him to let her go. That infuriating smirk broadened across his lips as he replied calmly.

"I will, soon as y' explain why Julien Boudreaux is trying to hunt y' down."

Marie's glare didn't waver. She had been foolish to think that she could count on him to keep quiet about what he had seen transpire between herself and Julien but she had hoped he hadn't heard much of what had been said. Evidently, he had heard enough to awaken his suspicions but she wasn't going to give him satisfaction of knowing the truth. As much as he was involved in the events of the other night, far as she was concerned he had no business poking around in her past. No one did.

"_Damn Cajun, why can't ya mahnd you're own business!"_

Her mind screamed irritation as she glared into those red-on-black orbs he called eyes. However, to her surprise his expression turned to surprise before swiftly sifting into a scowl, causing his eyes to literally _burn_ in the dark. His tone of voice became more severe than she had ever heard it and it caused her heart to take a quicker pace though she didn't understand why. She wasn't easily intimidated...though she wasn't even sure that was the right word for it. Whatever it was, it was as if his eyes were burning into hers.

"I t'ink y' will find dat it's more my business den y' realise. I _know_ Julien, I know what he is capable of. "

_What?_ Marie couldn't help the surprise that spread across her face. Had he been _listening _to her thoughts? She found that hard to believe. She had spent years building up her mental shields to keep telepaths and the like out of her mind. So how was it that he, who she now suspected to be a telepath as well, could break through her shields? She glared and made sure to assert her venom on every word she spoke.

"It ain't polite to look through someone's thoughts uninvited."

Remy matched her scowl with yet another wiry smirk, his intense scowl forgotten.

"It be impolite t' project insulting t'oughts too _chérie_."

Marie's expression turned sceptical. She was certain he was some kind of telepath but perhaps she had been projecting without realising it? However when she did not reply and he didn't release her arm, Remy spoke. His voice severe and free of any smirks or humour.

"We can do dis _all_ night _belle._ _Mais_ whatever it is Julien Boudreaux has against y', I assure y' _mon famille et_ I can guarantee y' safety."

His voice took on a gentle tone that was warm and almost endearing. Though he sounded more serious than the smirking charmer she understood him to be, there was something in his voice that made her feel...like she could trust him.

Nonetheless, she put on a disbelieving look, raised a sceptical brow and replied with snort of disbelief.

"That's rather assertive-"

She grew quiet when he took a step closer. They were practically a breath away from touching noses. Usually such closeness would set her on edge. For whatever reason, she didn't feel that urge to shrink away. Not from him, or the intense look in those red, glowing orbs.

"It's a _guarantee_. De t'ieves guild prides itself in hiding t'ings. Especially _people_ who do not want to be found."

Oxygen seemed to be short on supply in that part of the corridor as Marie felt suddenly short of breath and at a loss of words. Those literally _charming_ red-on-black eyes held an unrelenting force and for the life of her, she couldn't turn away. Finally, she stumbled on her voice again. She could hold her cold scowl in place but her voice betrayed her a little. She tried to keep it cold and stern but even she, with all her pride, could hear the waver in her tone.

"Ah _appreciate _the offer but ah'm pretty good at hidin' when ah don't want to beh found."

"And the other night? What was dat?"

She didn't so much as blink a hesitation.

"That was a _minor_ slip up."

It was his turn to look incredulous as his usual charm wavered.

"Is getting chased, shot with a power neutralizer and _then _shot in the chest y' idea of a _minor slip up_?"

The strange trance broke and Marie moved a step back, trying to wrench her arm out of his hold.

"As far as ah'm concerned ah've done mah explanations! Ah don't _owe you_ any explanation other than what ah've given you and your family-"

Suddenly without warning, his aggravated voice erupted in her thoughts but his mouth remained a thin line across his scowling, handsome face. She was cut off as his thoughts invaded her like a slap of cold water to the face.

"_Why won't y' accept help when it is given in good faith?"_

She stared up at him blankly, her mouth parted in her stunned state. She had had very few telepaths in her head but never had their emotions _screamed_ so vividly in her own mind. Or come out in French as _his _did. She felt his frustration-laced curiosity over her unwillingness to give him a straight answer as if they were her own feelings. And in her bemusement, they had come to a silent stand-still. The room around them became blurred and unimportant as he kept his hold on her and she made no effort to remove herself from his proximity. Neither understood the gravity of their _emotional understanding_ and wouldn't just yet as a sudden _creaking_ noise burst the bubble of silence. Both turned to see Meg walk across the distant corridor, clad in her pyjamas and yawning as she made her way to her bedroom.

When the door closed behind her, both heaved silent, relieved sighs as they turned back to face each other. With the argument at an end- or postponed at any rate- Remy released her arm and looked almost ashamed for a moment. He ran a hand over the back of his head, tracing his fingers through his unruly hair before meeting her gaze again.

"Look _chére._ If y' don't want t' tell _moi_. Y' do not 'ave to. _Je suis desolé."_ (I am sorry)

At Marie's visible look of surprise, Remy could not help but smirk unabashedly and all too suddenly he returned most of his usual composure. Offering his arm once more, he escorted her back to her room as planned. Marie took the peace offering by accepting his arm and a few silent minutes later found herself outside her door. Gently, Remy released her arm only to grasp her hand. Like a true Southern gentleman, he brought her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. Marie couldn't hold back the blush that pulsed in her cheeks and it no doubt caused a sense of smugness in the young Cajun.

"_Bon nuit. Bien dormir_ Marie." (Good night. Sleep well)

With a last wink and a smirk, Remy left her standing outside her door. Smirking to himself, he counted silently to five. It was an old little trick he had used since childhood. Though it may be a little on the cruel, deceptive side, it wasn't exactly harmful. With a _sincere _apology or declaration of defeat in which his opponent, or in this case _Southern Spitfire_,would believe herself the winner of the argument. As he did so, he would ensure that all the while the person was looking him straight in the eyes as he _hinted _towards feelings of regret and misjudgement. He would leave and within a few moments...

"Remy?"

He hid his smug grin under a semi-surprised look as he turned to face her. He watched as Marie bit down on her lower lip, a slight frown marred across her features as she spoke.

"All ah can tell you is that ah've had a few run-ins with the Assassins over the years...let's just say that Julien Boudreaux is the least of mah problems."

Remy's mind was reeling in stagnate confusion as Marie slipped inside her room. _Never_ had he had such a meagre response to his empathetic powers. Usually, he needed only to look into a person's eyes for a few moments to gain some control of their emotions. But from what he could read off Marie, which was very little in the most vague description, that had been her _own_ sense of misjudgement and repentance.

He frowned at her door, pondering the strangeness of the effect this woman had on him and the _lack _of effect he had on her. After a few silent moments, he began the short trek back to his own room. He vowed silently that would get a real answer out of her in due time.

Somehow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_**Meanwhile...**_

Julien Boudreaux was in a foul mood. With a force of agitation in his stride, he followed the long blood-red carpet to the end of the hall. He ignored the pair of Assassins stationed at the doors, glaring both down with his ice-blue eyes before angrily pushing the heavy double doors open. Within the grand office, an elderly but strictly built man sat behind a varnished desk. Marius Boudreaux didn't so much as flinch in surprise at his son's forceful entrance. He merely turned his gaze to meet his son's for a moment before returning his attention to the set of documents he had been reading.

Julien grit his teeth, his eyes burning icily as he stepped into the room. When his father did nothing still, he strode over to his desk and rest his hands against the carved edge. He levelled his gaze with his father's head, like a gun aimed at a target point.

"Why 'ave y' not sent anyone t' retrieve de _D'ancanto fille?_" (girl)

Marius Boudreaux _did_ look up this time but his expression remained cold and unfazed. He folded his hands together neatly on the table as he spoke.

"Because, _mon fils,_ I have much more important t'ings to do dan send my men on a wild search for a _fille_ who may _or may not_ be de missing D'ancantodaughter."

Maniacal determination hardened in those eyes that so resembled Marius' own and it unnerved him to no end. Though he kept his discomfort buried and sheathed by his placid look of composure and business, he had always kept a watchful eye on his troubled son. Even as a boy, he had been prone to acts of violence that no one could understand. Not even Belladonna who professed to be so close to her brother. There was an unsettling malevolence about him, and that was coming from the head of an _Assassins_ Guild. Assassins were trained to kill; his son seemed _born _to kill. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had seen expert killers take out their targets without so much as a blink of an eye. But when Julien killed...he _enjoyed it._ You could see it as pure as daylight. He could _pretend_ to be civil, pretend to be everything the heir of the Assassins Guild should be but when provoked, he became an animal ruled by anger and a lust for blood. It was like seeing flashes of a monster behind a man's eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to come out from hiding and attack with full strength. And right now, the monster was barely held back in restraint.

"_Mais il est elle! _(But it _is her!_)"

Marius raised a brow at him.

"Y' have proof, _mon fils?"_

Julien's mouth formed a line as his nostrils flared with anger. He took a deep, aggravated breath as he leaned closer to his father's face. His voice erupted in low growls of words.

"She has a _white streak _t'rough her hair! How many_ femmes_ do y' t'ink 'ave hair like dat? She is an _exact_ match _Pére_! She _is_ Anna-Marie D'ancanto! And I _swear_ if y' give me a team I _will_ bring her back here." 

Marius' brow furrowed with irritation, one of the few emotions he dared to show to his wayward son. How long Julien had _obsessed _over the whereabouts of Anna-Marie had spanned since the very day she had gone missing five years ago. After months of searching and finding nothing but dead ends, they had called off the search.

All but Julien that is.

Many had tried to dissuade him, to make him move on but all in vain. Year in and out since he was eighteen, he searched obsessively for her only to return with nothing but anger and a hardened determination. To say Marius had had enough of the matter was an understatement. The elderly man massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Julien. Though dat is an _extraordinary _coincidence, it is not enough t' prove dat she is who y' believe her t' be. Perhaps y' saw only what y' _wished _t' see."

Julien's fist slammed against the hard, polished wood of the desk with a sound much like that of a gun-shot. The monster inside was held back by but a breath's length as he glared menacingly into his Father's cold face.

"I did _not_ imagine her."

His father gave an indifferent scoff.

"Dat would be obvious_ mon fils_. Y' did try t' get t' her t'rough y' future _beau-frére_ wit' a bullet." (Brother-in-law)

Julien froze visibly for a moment but was quick to hide his surprise at his father's words. His eyes grew dark at the mention of the LeBeau boy.

"I didn't fire dat bullet."

Marius smiled.

"But y' _ordered_ it."

He was not surprised when his son did not answer. Marius continued to smile coldly as he leant back in his chair, holding the upper hand.

"Focus y' attention on havin' our _would-be Assassin_ dealt wit' _properly._ T' _ensure _dat our treaty wit' de Thieves will not be questioned. We will 'ave no more talk of Anna-Marie D'ancanto..."

Julien opened his mouth to protest but Marius raised a hand to silence him before a word escaped him.

"...Until y' have _solid_ proof dat she _is _who y' say she is."

After a few moments and the order sunk in, Julien gave a quiet nod and bowed respectfully before leaving his father to his readings.

The crooked smile across his face caused both of the guarding Assassins to wonder what could have made the mad Prince of Assassins so pleased.

_****_

_**Now why is Marie so important to the Assassins?**_

**I always imagined Marius Boudreaux as a sort of mix between Terrance Stamp and bad-ass John Malkovich. Cold and wise but deadly under the surface ;) **

**REVIEW! Will update soon!**

**-Gams **


	8. Something I Cannot Explain

**Chapter Seven – Something I Cannot Explain **

_**The next morning...**_

In the past two weeks in which she had slept through most of the mornings with pain-killers inducing slumber, Marie woke at the break of dawn with a start. The first rays of sunlight were only just touching the window panels of her room when she shot-upright from the bedcovers. Amongst her already frightening collection of nightmares, the bloody events of the night in the alley plagued her sleeping eyes. It was always the same; she would walk down the very alley she and Gambit had been shot and a gunshot would blast and echo in her ears followed by a maniacally cackling Julien Boudreaux. But that was not the worst of it. It was a reoccurring theme that she should find Gambit lying on the pavement with a bullet through his chest. The sight made her dream-self scream only to realise the bloody wound trickling from her own chest. She would wake up in a start of panic as she did now; frightened and shaken.

When the trembling fear finally stopped rattling in her bones, Marie let out an aggravated sigh. She wiped the cold sheet of sweat and tears from her forehead and rolled carefully onto her side only to wince. Her wounds were healing quicker than she had anticipated thanks to Tante Mattie's meddling but even so, the wound was tender. Marie brushed a finger over the heart of the wound concealed by the bandages wrapped around her chest and shoulder. She had put a foot in the grave that night and she wouldn't soon forget it. A more rueful sigh escaped her lips as the blurred events of that night reeled through her mind like a damaged reel of film. She had no doubt that Julien was looking for her again and would continue to do so as long as there was air in his lungs and mania in his heart. And in penance for her foolishness she had not only endangered the _Prince of Thieves _but the treaty between the two clans as well. And the treaty was already fractured.

Marie frowned at the ceiling, biting her lower lip slightly. She had never had any trouble with keeping intruding telepaths at bay but with him it was as if she had heard him speak not an inch from her own ear. And in _French no less!_

Gambit's face and those of his family flashed across her mind's eyes as her thoughts grew dark and heavy with her troubles. She would have to leave soon. _That day_ if she could manage it. And as if to assert the idea, she slowly got up only to flail back on the palms of her hands as the strain took its painful toll on her stiff, wounded chest. She cursed through her teeth as she used the bedside table for support to stand. At this rate, she wasn't going anywhere let alone _sneaking out _while everyone was asleep.

"Ah can'te protect anyone if ah don't get out of here soon..."

Sighing with aggravation yet again at her own helplessness, Marie pushed herself to walk over to the closet. Mercy had been kind enough to give her a few of her old clothes. They were a little big, being that Mercy was at least a head taller than her but they were better than the torn and blood-stained cat-suit she had come to them in. She found a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, completed with the yellow shawl Jean-Luc had admired so strangely. Since there were no shoes that had come with the clothing donations, she settled for a pair of socks and made her way out to the hallway. She decided that finding out the security and layout of the estate and house was the first step to leaving.

Carefully, she poked her head out of the door and checked the hallway. To her relief, no one was around at the crack of dawn. This band of thieves was relatively _normal_ in that sense, she thought as she wandered down the corridor. In search of the stairs, she was peering through a corridor when she felt someone come up behind her in a ghost-like fashion. If she hadn't been adapted to sensing when people were so close, she wouldn't have heard him. Without a thought, Marie did an abrupt turn. With her slung arm held close to her chest and the other clutched into a tight fist, she did a solid round-house kick to her supposed-attacker only for her sock-clad foot to be caught in one of a pair of familiar hands with fingerless-gloves that had only the index and forth fingers cut-off. Marie's eyes widened in surprise and then annoyance took hold. She glared as she hissed through grit teeth.

"What the hell are ya doin' sneakin' up on meh lahke that?"

To further her annoyance, Gambit gave another one of those sinfully charming, full-blown smiles. A low, husky chuckle rose from his chest as he continued to hold her foot in a protective hold but an inch from his collarbone. It was like holding a pencil in hand, so casual it seemed. He lowered it slightly to keep her balanced but despite her protests to be released, he did not let go.

"_Bonne Matin. _Did I startle y' _ma chérie?" _(Good Morning)

Marie finally managed to force her foot out of his hold only to stumble back unsteadily and wince as her actions caught up to her. He caught her again, this time around her waist. Marie's cheeks flushed as she stared up at him in utter chagrin. It annoyed her to no end to see that smug smirk of his broaden ever so slightly. Pink faced, she pulled out of his hold and glared up at him and growled.

"Ya did _not_ startle meh."

He gave a rather amused snort and raised one of those perfectly shaped brows at her as he enquired with a teasing note in his voice.

"Really? So dat defensive round-house-kick t'_ mon face_ was what?"

Marie busied herself with straightening her sling as she replied flatly.

"Reflex ah guess."

Remy gave another snort of amusement.

"Oh _chére_, y' are a rare one y' know dat?"

To his calculations no less, Marie turned a redder shade of pink as she continued to glare him down like the lowest creature on the planet. To say he enjoyed this was an understatement. However when she turned on her heel and made to leave him alone, he felt like the breath was suddenly taken out of his very lungs. Before his pride could stop him, he was reaching out for her. His hand had barely brushed the gap between her neck and the collar of her shirt when she seemed to flinch like he had punched her. She turned to face him like a startled animal, her eyes wide and frightened for a split moment before they filled with fury.

"What the hell-"

Remy placed his gloved index finger to her lips to silence her as he implored her to be quiet. He indicated to one of the doors across from them as he spoke.

"Not everyone be an early riser like y' _et_ _moi chére."_

Marie growled a sigh.

"Just _don't _touch meh an' stop _calling meh that!_"

Remy raised an enquiring brow at her but the Southern Spitfire seemed intent on keeping her reasons to herself as she turned to leave again. This time, taking heed to _one _of her requests, he didn't touch her. However, he _did _overtake her to stop her from making any more quick tracks. They stood there staring at each other for a moment or two before she heaved an angry sigh. She whispered forcefully.

"Well? What do ya want now?"

He couldn't help but smirk at the way she carried herself. With her free arm set itself on her hip as it cocked to one side, she scowled up at him expectantly. Was there _any _way this woman couldn't surprise and amuse him? He couldn't help but tease her a little more and take no heed of that emerald glare.

"Are y' always dis pleasant in de mornin' _belle?"_

That splash of crimson was back on her cheeks as she refused to meet his gaze.

"Ah'm _not_ pleasant _period_-"

He gave a light chuckle and shook his head.

"Don't believe dat _chére._"

She made an incredulous expression but before she could speak, he was changing the subject. He surprised her with the more serious tone that took to his charming voice.

"Look, all I wanted t' do was t'ank y'."

That incredulous expression suddenly turned surprised as she raised a sceptical brow.

"For what?"

He gave a rare, genuine smile but it was tinted with a sober note he also carried in his tone of voice. Marie didn't quite know how to react.

"Y' took a bullet f'_ moi_ wit'out much t' warrant de savin' _chére._ _Je vous dois la vie. Merci._"(I owe you my life. Thank you)

Marie found herself speechless. There was such an abundance of sincerity in those strange red-on-black eyes she found it hard to remember why she had been annoyed at him in the first place. She remained silent a moment before managing to shake her head and shifted her gaze. Her voice lost its usual sarcastic notes and harshness when she spoke.

"Ah didn't do either of us much good in tryin'. There really isn't a need for any thanks..."

"_Non, _I _know _dat I wouldn't be standin' here if y' hadn't done what y' did._ Je suis éternellement reconnaissant."_ (I am eternally grateful)

As he spoke, Remy had reached out to grasp her gloved hand in his. His tone was the most serious and sincere she had ever heard it to be and it deflected her usual response to pull away. Instead, Marie felt a jolt of what felt like electricity course through her fingers from his touch. As clichéd as that would sound, it was truth. It made her shiver, this strange feeling of...completeness. And though it scared her, she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Staring up at him with wide, anxious eyes, immobile and silent. To any who observed them, they were quite a matched pair. Both with an arm slung in a sling, both healing from the same wounds. And later when the bandages were removed and the scars remained, they seemed destined to match for life. Of course, neither of them knew that at this point.

Marie was the first to break from the strange hold on them. She withdrew her hand quickly, as if stung by realisation. However before she could even consider an excuse to leave, Remy spoke. His tone suddenly light and full of its usual charm again.

"Have y' ever had home-made beignets before _chére_?"

When Marie shook her head, a delighted smile spread across the Cajun's face before he led her down to the kitchen below. An hour later, she found herself sitting at a bench while Remy pushed a plate of fresh, home-made beignets sprinkled with a layer of powdered sugar and honey in front of her. Warm amusement filled Remy's smile at the sight of Marie's eyes widening in surprise. It was obvious she indeed had not had home-made beignets before. He watched with growing curiosity as Marie removed the glove from her free hand before picking up the first beignet. He had assumed from her practically terrified expression when he had touched her that she was still wary of her wounds...but somehow that didn't quite fit. He watched her closely but took care to look away before she could catch him out. They ate together with only necessary talk of passing the sugar or honey jar. It wasn't until they finished that Marie finally spoke. She wiped her lower lip with her index finger. He stared unabashedly.

"You've out done yourself with these. Ah haven't had homemade beignets since ah was a little girl an' even then, ah don't remember them bein' _this _good."

He could only smirk proudly at the compliment, his eye widening in mock astonishment.

"Is dat a compliment from my _so-called_ unpleasant _petite rat __at de Rivière_?" (Little River Rat)

Marie raised an incredulous brow as she half-choked on a bite of her next beignet.

"Excuse meh? _River Rat?"_

He grinned, enjoying her reaction to his new pet name for her.

"_Oui. _It's only fitting since y' be from Mississippi _non_?"

For once his mutation seemed to be working on her, for he felt the sudden fall into discomfort the question brought out in her emotions. She reverted to past habits of not meeting his eyes as she dropped the half-eaten beignet on her plate. Her reply was short worded and neutral of any give-away feelings on the subject.

"Ah guess so."

It was instantaneous that Remy suddenly felt a rush of emotions- no, not just emotions, but heightened _memories_ flash across his mind's eyes but they weren't his. A little girl sat in a kitchen much like the one he and Marie now sat in. Suddenly a woman with flowing blond curls and dressed in a pale pink sundress appeared behind her and hugged her close. A roll of giggles escaped the little auburn-haired girl as her mother pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and asked if she was enjoying her breakfast. All the while these images flashed across his mind, the warm, tender emotions of the memory were encased by another set of emotions like an over coat. An overpowering sense of longing and sadness pushed the previous emotions and the memory out of his mind before he was flung back into reality. He realised all too suddenly that Marie was waving a gloved hand in front of his face, trying to grasp his attention. Her voice rasped with the same frightened quick-pace that his heart and breath danced to.

"Remy? Are ya alright?"

He turned slowly to look at her. With his usual mask gone, his emotions laid bare and fresh across his face. Her face mirrored his but she had the capacity to furrow her brow with uncertainty. The dragging moments after their strange, dual encounter of her memory but suddenly seemed short-lived. The sound of muffled voiced in the hallway leading to the kitchen cut through the air and before any could utter a word, they were joined by the rest of the household.

While the others went about their usual morning rituals of coffee and food, Tante Mattie chided the pair playfully for being the first ones up and about. Remy and Rogue were nonchalantly separated by the tidal wave of LeBeau family members. Though still rather stunned, Rogue welcomed the distance and the distraction found in Mercy and Tante Mattie. However though she kept up quietly with the conversation, her mind wandered back to what had happened before the LeBeau family's interruption. She rarely let a memory of her past get to her so _deeply_ but it was like a cup had been filled too fast and overflowed before she could stop it. As fleeting as the thought of her mother serving beignets to her as a child had been, the emotions surrounding the memory had taken hold and obscured her thoughts and emotions. And when she resurfaced and looked at Remy beside her, it was as if the vague memory of her mother in the kitchen was reeling through his mind as well. It was as if it had written itself clear across his face and she had been so sure she had felt it too…

...But that was impossible wasn't it?

Remy's cousins Meg and Emil began to argue over who finished the last box of lucky charms, _loudly_. She broke away from her thoughts so suddenly that it caused Tante Mattie to stare her down with a concerned look.

"Marie chére? Y' alright?"

Marie felt Remy's eyes diligently follow his aunt's from across the table. She feigned slight discomfort in her left shoulder, claiming that her wound was acting up a little. It was a justified reason to leave the room without too much suspicion. And to Marie's relief, her little lie was bought. Tante Mattie let her leave after being assured she didn't need to have her wounds examined. Though Marie sighed relief once out of the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel just a little bad about lying to the woman but she quickly dashed the thought and scolded her own emotions. She hardly knew these people!

"_It's probably better ah don't let their opinions effect meh so much. Ah'll be gone in a day or two an' they'll never have to give meh a second thought." _

Stubborn to maintain her justifications, Marie made her way to the front entrance where she found a coat closet and a pair of women's tennis shoes that were about her size. She slipped them on and made her way carefully outside and went about looking for her best chance at leaving the property. She walked over the grounds at a casual step, though she didn't run into anybody. There was a single driveway that led to a set of heavy cast iron gates that were under high security and surveillance with at least two men on patrol at all times and several cameras watching. Marie silently kicked herself. _Of course_ they were high on paranoia; they were thieves! Not to mention the limestone wall that surrounded the entire property and the surrounding swamps. Though Marie had dealt with much more _intense _circumstances, this escape was presenting to be a challenge for her, especially with her current injuries.

"Not to mention the _only God knows_ how long trek back to New Orleans," she muttered under her breath as she eyed the limestone wall with foreboding anticipation. She realised her odds of leaving in the middle of the night without raising any alarms or difficulties were not in her favour at all. But she wasn't about to give up just yet...

Marie made her way back to the house in a trance of thought, her mind set on finding a way out of the Thieves Clan Headquarters without leaving traces. So lost in her own thoughts was she however, she did not notice where she was heading until a new voice cried out to her.

"Hey Marie! Over here _chére!_"

Marie lifted her gaze from the gravel path to find herself staring at what appeared to be a barn turned garage and an oil and grease-clad young man waving at her from the open door. She approached with a friendly smile to replace her deep-thought scowl. Etienne saw no falseness in it in the way any naive eighteen-year-old boy would as he beamed a perfect smile in return.

"What y' doin' roamin' around all on y' lonesome ah?"

Marie pushed out the first answer to enter her head. Of course, it wasn't the most believable.

"Oh ah jus' needed some air-"

Etienne nodded in a knowing, smug manner that made her think too much of his elder cousin. He replied indifferently to her lame excuse.

"_Ah._ _LeBeau Famille_ overload _oui_?"

Marie closed her half-open mouth, causing Etienne to burst into a small fit of laughter. She had only met him a few times but Etienne Marceaux was already what she believed to be a Remy LeBeau in the pre-packaging stage. He was not yet twenty and already held as much infuriating charm as his cousin but to his own merit held a little more compassion and sensitivity than the red-eyed Cajun. He had introduced himself on one of the first days she had been at the LeBeau house with a lazy smile and notable charm to his Cajun accent. She knew then and there what kind of heartbreaker he would be given a few more years. Etienne wiped the grease off his brow (which only put more on it from his stained gloves) as he replied in his usual good spirited tease.

"Oh don't deny it_ belle_, y' escaped de _famille _lyin' t'rough y' teeth am I right?"

Marie tucked a loose strand of hair anxiously behind her ear.

"Well...yeah kinda."

Etienne gave a warm chuckle as he continued to put away tools in a tall red toolbox. Only then did Marie realise the black Ducati that stood close by. Instantly transfixed, Marie could not help but admire it from the corner of her eye.

"Ah dere be no shame in it. I know dey can be a little eh..._intense._ _Mais _I'm sure dat y' know they mean well by it."

Marie smiled albeit rather meekly as she remembered Tante Mattie's concern as she lied through her teeth to get out of the room. That nagging feeling of guilt tugged at her mind again but she forced it back and instead put all her interest into the shiny Ducati standing beside her. With a gloved finger, she smoothed it over the sleek form with an admiring eye. Etienne worded her admiration perfectly.

"She's a _belle fille _dis one."

Marie couldn't help a real smile as she turned to face him.

"She's gorgeous. Vintage Ducati?"

Etienne nodded; an undeniably proud smile across his face.

"1979 Streetfighter Ducati. Got her off an _ami_ of mine in Paris. When she first got here, she was, I must admit, a _wreck._ _Mais _now I t'ink she may be close t' her first test run. Y' up for a spin _chére_?"

Marie turned her gaze over the Ducati with positively lustful eyes only to stop short when her bandages tightened against her arm when she shifted slightly. She gave a disappointed sigh.

"Maybe some other tahme," She lied but was genuinely regretful to admit so. "Ah'm not exactly _road worthy_ mahself yet."

Etienne made an all too familiar wink and assured he'd hold her to it once she was given the clean bill of health. On that subject however, it was only inevitable that he ask on a much more serious note.

"Y' know, I can't help t'inking dat if weren't for y'...my cousin wouldn't be in dere."

He gestured towards the house as an almost _tearful_ expression spread across his youthful face. Marie anxiously tried to shirk off his pending apology by saying that he wouldn't be in there with a row of stitches near his heart if she hadn't been there that night. However, much like Tante Mattie and the other LeBeaus, Etienne wouldn't have her justifications. He took her gloved hand and squeezed it in thanks. Marie was forced to meet his blue eyes as he spoke.

"_Non_ Marie. Y' saved my cousin's life and f' dat I know my famille will owe y' a tremendous favour. _Merci beaucoup._"

Marie tried a firm smile but it quivered under the stare of those watery blue eyes. The intensity of this family of thieves was beginning to get too overwhelming. So overwhelming she was sure she wouldn't have the heart to sneak out without so much as a word. However, the moment passed quickly, and Etienne was back to gushing about his love for mechanics.

"If I wasn't set up as Remy's apprentice, I'd be opening a garage. I swear on my honour, I _can_ assemble a motorcycle from scratch with my eyes closed."

"Y' be showin' off y' _other skills_ again _garcon?" _(boy)

Marie felt a strange rush of terror and warmth spread through her very _soul_ at the sound of Remy's familiar voice. Both turned to see Remy leaning against the garage doorframe with an amused smirk across his unshaven face. He approached them as Etienne began to defend his honour.

"What are dese _other skills_ y' speak of cuz? Dis be an _asset _t' my t'ieving skills!"

Remy came to stand across from Marie, his hand trailing down the opposite side of the Ducati only to stop where Marie's fingers lingered, separated by just a few inches. Her hand shrunk back to her side, burnt by his subtle staring and nearness. He made no further gesture towards her as he turned to reply his cousin.

"_D'accord,_ Remy mus' admit dat y' have a handy trade t' add t' y' skills _mais _Remy can't see how knowing how t' change a tire is gonna help y' on y' tilling next month…"

He smoothed his hand over the leather seat of the Ducati once more. An amused smirk grew across his face at Etienne's affronted scowl. The young man folded his arms across his chest in defiance and a scoff found its way up his throat with a retorted.

"It ain't jus' about changin' a tire an' y' know it Remy. Y' jus' showin' off f' y' _belle sauveur _over here. B'sides, Y' jus' jealous y' don't know half as much as I do about dat precious Harley Davidson y' _scooter _around on every night."

While Marie flushed a little at being named _Remy's beautiful saviour_, she could not help but be amused by the brotherly banter and battle of wills going on. Remy gave a loud scoff as he came to stand beside his young cousin and dramatically clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Ah Et. Y' know Remy could teach y' a few t'ings more dan dat _Motorcycles for Dummies_ book y' have."

"_Oh please. _Now I _know_ y' jus' showin' off f' y' _belle femme_. Marie,"

He turned to face her, grinning. It was all too clear from the hinting smile across his face that he was enjoying this banter far too much.

"Don't let dis _imbecile _fool y' none. He don't know half as much as I do about motors an' he knows it. He jus' don't want to admit it t' himself his _little cousin_ is de better mechanic."

Marie gave a small smile of amusement.

"Takes a lot t' fool meh Et. Ah know a bloated ego when ah see it."

Etienne howled with laughter at the sight of the smirk that fell of his cousin's face.

"I like dis one! Remy, y' best get y' ass saved by a femme more often. Dis belle be a refreshin' change t' de airheads y' usually attract."

Marie caught Remy's eye momentarily as Etienne turned towards his toolbox. He stared back, those bottomless eyes set on hers far too intently as they always seemed to be. Marie broke the connection as soon as Etienne began to speak again.

"Well, not that I'm not havin' fun here makin' y' look like a fool in front of Marie. _Mais_ duty calls et Emil et I have trainin' wit' Henri. I'll see y' deux later. Shut de door when y' done gawkin' at _mon belle fille _Remy."

He gave Marie one last wink that left her wondering if he had really meant the Ducati.

A few silent moments passed in which the pair returned to where they had been before being interrupted in the kitchen. Marie levelled her gaze to meet his but averted from meeting his eyes directly upon fear of being… trapped. Marie made an attempt at small talk. She hoped it to be a safer bet than trying to silently withstand the growing turmoil of feelings that seemed to pollute the very air they breathed. He sat on the edge of the Ducati seat while she stood leant against the toolbox, mere steps stood between them.

Was it strange to say the distance was a discomfort rather than a consolation?

"Your cousin thinks very highly of yah. Despite all the banterin' ya'll seem t' do."

He nodded quietly with only a hint of a smile across his handsome face. It unnerved Marie but at the same time she couldn't help but feel herself warm to that look…to him.

"And I him. He's a good t'ief et a _tres bon_ mechanic."

She could not help but raise a questioning brow to him. His smile broadened.

"_Oui,_ y' heard _moi_ right. Does _mon _ego look so _bloated_ now?"

Marie tried to hold back the smile that spread briefly across her face.

"Not so much…"

She leant a little harder against the tall toolbox only for the wheels to give way on the extra push. She slipped back as the toolbox rolled back only to land on her backside with a thud. Pain coursed through her wounded chest and into the tender muscles of her shoulder. A pained gasp escaped her lips as she hunched over and held her slung arm in place. When she managed to look up again, she was stunned to find Remy kneeling on the floor across from her, his actions mirroring her own with his free hand clutching his slung arm. Their eyes locked. Words weren't possible in this peculiar predicament. And when the pain that rushed through her with the fall began to wane to a dull ache, she saw the same effect mirror across his body and emotions. It was surreal to think what they were sharing. First that strange feeling whenever they were close, then the sharing of a singular memory and now this.

Marie finally found words to speak though they came out in barely a whispered rasp.

"Ya not a telepath…are ya?"

He shook his head lightly, his eyes still dilated with the aftershock.

"_Non._ Et y'?"

Marie shook her head.

"What…what the hell is this?"

Remy shook his head.

"I can't say I know _chére_…"

Though there was still a strong amount of shock in his system, Remy managed to pull himself to his feet by way of the Ducati being his hand-up. He gingerly held out a hand for her take in an effort to help her up. Even in the midst of a supernatural incident, he was always the gentleman. Marie hesitantly took his hand but at the moment of contact regret her choice.

That strange tie between them, that eerie rush of feelings that arose whenever they touched seemed to lift up its head like a sleepy animal only to become excited and vigorous with energy once more. With just one, brief touch the strange bond awoke with intensity. Marie tried in vain to banish such feelings by way of ripping her hand away in haste. They stared at each other with identical expressions of uncertainty and shock. However that was when the _bond_ turned. It smoothly began to course through each of their veins into something that warmed and tingled with growing intensity. Though neither could understand it, they found themselves leaning towards each other again. They reached out in union to grasp each other's hand once more but alas were plagued with bad timing and interruption once more.

"Remy! Oncle sent me to get you and- _Oh!_ _Bon matin_ Marie! I was just about to go find you too. Fancy that!"

Meg didn't take notice of how the pair slipped away from each other or the difficulty it took to do so. Remy smiled pleasantly at his young cousin without a hitch while Marie took to guarding her emotions with a cool expression. With a megawatt smile in place, Meg practically skipped towards them and latched herself onto Remy's free arm. Remy winced slightly at the roughness of the action but bore well under a husky chuckle.

"Meg-chérie, y' going t' put Remy back in de infirmary if y' not careful. Now what is it _mon Pére_ wants?"

Meg chewed her bottom lip anxiously but still managed to smile as she apologised lightly. The mass of green curls continued to bounce around her shoulders as she turned between the pair.

"Oncle sent me to tell you that Bella's been calling you on the house phone and wants you to call her back. And that he wants to see you, Marie."

The pair looked at the green-haired girl with mirrored expression of surprise.

"He wants to see meh?"

Meg nodded happily.

"That's why he sent me. I'll take you to him, he's in Tante Evelyn's garden. Come on!"

Meg latched her hand around Marie's wrist and gently pulled her towards the door like a child pulling an unwilling parent. Remy followed at a slower pace only to stop at the garage door and stare onwards as Marie and Meg walked off. The pair kept each others gaze until the last moment before going their separate ways.

Both felt the unnamed bond between them stretch with discomfort but neither knew what to make of such feelings. Not yet.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_**All I can say is that I'm sorry I've been so off the update radar lately but good news, an update! **_

_**Thank you to those who've been leaving lovely reviews asking me to get my act together again. I really appreciate it! **_

_**And a message to**__ Hope Hannigan__, __**if you could read through this update and message me what you think needs changing on the French translations I and I'll fix them and re-upload the chapter. Thanks! **_

_**Until next update! **_

_**-Gams **_


	9. Wisdom Given

**Chapter Eight – Wisdom Given **

Remy slumped against the wall with a disgruntled sigh. His head rolled back until the top of his head rested against the cool wall and closed his eyes. His lips formed a grim line as he let the happenings of the last few hours settle in his thoughts. He didn't know what to make of it truthfully. But whatever it was that had taken over Marie and himself over the past few days, it wasn't anything he had seen or heard of in his lifetime. And it was but the tip of the iceberg of his problems.

When he had called Bella, a sick sensation had gripped him and nestled in his gut. Though he wasn't at liberty to explain how, he knew it was because of what he felt for Marie. And even then he didn't know what to say on that subject. What he felt towards this almost complete stranger was the closest thing to bliss and agony all at once. But as soon as Belladonna's voice had rung through the earpiece he felt what could only be described as a foreboding. And it grew with every Wedding-infused word she spoke. Normally he was able to go through such talks without too much resentment but now the very thought of _contemplating _such a notion as marriage to Belladonna made him almost nauseous.

He had been close to being almost _acceptant_ of what had been planned for them by the two Guilds but now the idea of marrying Belladonna…pledging himself to her for as long as he lived was a far cry from being plausible. It felt _wrong_ in every possible way and he could not convince himself otherwise because even if he tried, whatever it was he felt for Marie felt _right. _And he could not ignore it.

More agitated than confused, Remy turned away from the wall and went to the window seat. His gaze settled on the gardens that the window framed within its panels. A bittersweet smile spread across his lips. His mother had planted and tended to these gardens since she first came to live at the Guild Headquarters nearly thirty years past. Since her death, his father had ensured the garden be kept in the exact condition she had kept it. It was one of the few things that remained of Evelyn LeBeau and he was sure that even after his father's passing, it would remain so.

Remy rested his good arm against the window panel and stared aimlessly at the weather worn gardens below. The autumn chill had quickly turned a majority of the garden a many shades of brown and gold while fallen leaves polluted the grassy slopes and shifted with the wind. It was then that Remy noticed two familiar figures approaching the gardens.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Marie gulped down the growing unease that rose from her chest and snaked up her throat, threatening to choke her under pressure. She followed Meg around the house towards the gardens and the young Thief-in-training kept small talk with her usual brightness of nature, she couldn't distract Marie from being anxious about being summoned singularly by the King of Thieves. As kind and charming as Jean-Luc had been to her throughout her stay, he was still one of the most dangerous men in New Orleans. What was worse, she had a feeling he knew more about her than he had been letting on.

They came to a stop outside a small hedge maze that surrounded a white gazebo trimmed with wreaths of autumn leaves. It was then a familiar voice drifted from behind them.

"Tis a shame y' know. If y' had only come t' us a little earlier y' would 'ave seen dis place in full bloom."

Marie turned to come across a curious sight. Before her stood the patriarch of the infamous Thieves Guild in a white gardening apron, gloves and a straw hat that drooped slightly on his head. He approached them with a kindly smile and gave Meg an affectionate pat to the shoulder and whispered a few words in French. Marie was relieved to hear him say only an affectionate thank you for leading her thus far. She dared not to relax just yet though.

"Come _ma chére, _look at dese."

He gently led her towards one of the few plants still ripe with bloom. It stood just beside the gazebo stairwell and proved to be a great contrast to the white paint. It was unlike any red rose Marie had ever seen. Each petal was such a deep blood red colour and looked like natural velvet incarnated. Jean-Luc took note of her expression with a satisfied smile.

"_Trés belle, non?"_

Marie could only nod however it quickly turned to a surprised gasp when Jean-Luc raised a pair of garden clippers an proceeded to cut each fully bloomed rose and lay them in a small woven basket. As he pruned the bush, he spoke.

"My wife took charge of the gardens here after _ma_ _Mére_ passed. _Et_ since her passing, I have made it a personal effort t' see dat dey are kept in good order."

Marie took a more insightful look about the garden surrounding her. She could only imagine how well it would look in spring. A small smile crept into the corner of her mouth.

"Ah can only imagine how they'd look in spring but ah'm certain ya have outdone yourself sir."

Jean-Luc offered a pleasant smile of gratitude as he finished pruning the rest of the roses. To Marie's surprise, he offered her one of the roses and replied.

"_Merci ma petite belle._"

Marie smiled softly and took the offered gift. She raised it to her nose to smell the rich fragrance. It was like a breath of spring air.

"My wife planted dis _Blood Rose_ herself not ten years ago. A friend of ours was a botanist et he created de breed. It was her particular favourite. _Mais _watch de thorns _oui?_"

A pleasant silence passed between the two as Jean-Luc stood up and dusted the dirt off his green-tainted jeans. With a satisfied sigh, he took off his hat and wiped his brow and turned to speak to her once more.

"Would y' care f' some lemonade _petite_?"

Jean-Luc led her onto the gazebo where a small garden table set stood with a tray of Tante Mattie's homemade lemonade. They sat on the gazebo deck with a glass each until finally Marie could not take any more of the anticipation of what he _really_ wished to discuss. She tried to be as polite as possible in asking what he really wanted. However the Guild Master was quietly insistent in setting the pace of the conversation. Marie had a sudden inclination as to where Remy learned his tactics.

"Indeed_ mais _I intended t' ask first how your injuries are fairing?"

Marie subconsciously let her hand slip to her slung arm as she replied earnestly.

"They are healin' well. Ah owe Tante Mattie for her healin' hands."

Jean-Luc gave a more sober nod of agreement. However his expression remained entirely poker faced and pleasantly smiling as he spoke.

"She _is_ truly a saviour. I owe my life t' her a few dozen times over. Mais dat is only a given, especially in _our_ line of work _non_?"

Marie hesitated before nodding in agreement. She did not like the emphasis he put on the 'our' in that sentence. However before she could question him, he was eying the basket of freshly picked blood roses on the table. His gaze took on a sheath that barely hid volumes of unspoken facts. And then the saddest smile spread across his aged handsome features.

"I have always admired blood roses. Dey have such a dark charm about dem dat average red roses can't seem t' muster. Even wit' dier thorns dey are soft to touch."

The sadness was there one moment then gone the next, as was the sheath hiding his true emotions. Marie remained silent as Jean-Luc recomposed himself and turned those kindly brown eyes to meet hers.

"I wonder, how did y' find our security perimeter dis morning? Was it t' y' liking?"

Surprised caused Marie's jaw to hang slightly. She opened her mouth to speak after a few moments of stunned silence but no words formed or escaped. A husky chuckle escaped Jean-Luc as he leant back against the gazebo wall in a casual ease. His right brow angled high as he teased.

"Not quite t' y' satisfaction, _non_?"

Marie closed her slightly gaping mouth in defeat. At Jean-Luc's ever teasing look, she quickly realised that he was not displeased. In fact, he was enjoying her surprised discomfort. Another trait he shared with his son. Marie made sure to not look any more surprised as she replied with an equally teasing smile.

"Ah'm sure ah would have trouble with them even if ah was fit t' test them."

Another bout of chuckles escaped Jean-Luc as he went about filling their glassed again.

"Ahh _petite_, y' have a gift f' flattery. _Mais _I hope y' have re-considered y' options since y' little exploration of the grounds."

Marie couldn't help but look a little sheepish. She was usually so in check of her emotions but lately it seemed, neither control nor emotion was in her own control. She answered on a more sober note, her brow furrowed with seriousness.

"Ah meant no disrespect Mistah LeBeau, but ah think it was tahme ah was on mah way-"

Jean-Luc needed only to raise a hand to silence her.

"_Si vous plait chére_- I understand perfectly dat y' have t' be on y' way. Mais (but) I suggest a more _tactful_ plan."

Marie raised a brow at the old thief and waited for him to continue. Jean-Luc picked up another rose from the basket and began to twist the neck between his roughened fingers. He was careful to avoid the thorns as he spoke.

"When y' feel fit enough t'. I will arrange f' a car t' drive y' t' wherever it is y' need t' be headed. Et I swear on my honour dat no one will follow y' if dat is y' wish."

Marie allowed a gasp of air to escape her lips but quickly composed herself. She forced a civil tone.

"Thank yah for the offer but ah would rather make mah own way-"

"He is already looking Marie."

His suddenly serious tone of voice caught her off-guard but his words nearly floored her in surprise. Her brow knit in confusion as she dared not to believe it just yet.

"He-?"

Jean-Luc kept an unsmiling, sober expression to emphasise his point as he nodded.

"_Oui_. I suspect dat he knows y' been staying here since y' came t' us."

Marie found herself go numb to the realisation as soon as it sunk in. Her gaze swept low over the white linen tablecloth until it focused on her rose that sat idly on a plate. She grasped it and gently brushed a gloved finger over its petals, imagining what it would really feel like against her skin as she spoke in a small voice.

"You're certain?"

Jean-Luc nodded gravely.

"Quite sure."

A few silent moments passed in which Jean-Luc stood and made his way over to her side. He rested a comforting hand on her covered shoulder.

"There are times when a thief must accept aid or be rendered worse off than dey already are. I have had much practice in this game et I insist dat dis is the safest course _ma petite_."

Marie finally managed to look him in the eyes. They emphasised the wisdom of the leader and she could not make any more protests. She gave a final nod and offered a meek smile as Jean-Luc returned to a pleasanter subject and offered her a re-fill.

_**I will get this story under wraps but it may take time!**_

_**Review please!**_

_**-Gams **_


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